


Pas de Trois

by Emma_Trevelyan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Aged up characters, Angst, Blow Jobs, Collars, Daddy Kink, Double Penetration, F/M, Facials, Friends to Lovers, Hair Pulling, Light Bondage, Light D/s, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oikawa is the whiniest of bottoms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Poly Relationship, Praise Kink, Rim job, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Spanking, Threesomes, Toys, Vibrators, angst with happy ending, established relationships - Freeform, face fucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-08-13 22:57:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7989244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_Trevelyan/pseuds/Emma_Trevelyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was hard enough falling for his best friend, let alone his best friend’s girl. But what kind of monster fell in love with both? What kind of man was he that he could look at the two most beautiful people in the world, see how happy they were, and want to destroy it?</p><p>In their last year of University, Oikawa Tooru is deep in a long-term, committed relationship with a ballerina named Sato Haruhi. They are beautiful, driven, and determined, and Iwaizumi Hajime has to accept that neither of them belong to him. He was totally fine with that... at first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheGangHitsTheSlopes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGangHitsTheSlopes/gifts).



Something that always appealed to Iwaizumi had been watching performers when they didn’t know they were being watched. Something about the look of concentration they would get as the moved through motions that were meant to be seen… he wasn’t sure, but it was beautiful. And he wasn’t choosy--it could be actors running lines, singers running chords… or Ballerinas practicing choreography. Something about the quiet intimacy of watching her glide across the floor, reflected back on herself dozens of times by the wall of mirrors, when she didn’t realize she was being watched...it made him feel like he was in on a secret. It was something that wasn’t meant to be seen; the small mistakes, her grimace of concentration, and the soft sounds of her toe shoes hitting the floor were meant for that space only. He could watch her for hours… if she hadn’t caught his gaze in the mirror.

“Iwaizumi,” she said evenly, her soft smile brightening her sharp features. She was out of breath, and she was flushed. She’d been practicing for hours. “Don’t tell me; he’s staying late again?” 

Iwaizumi put his hands up in mock defense; “For once, it was the coach. We have a new spiker, and he wanted them to get a feel for one another.”

“That’s good,” she said, going back to practicing her turns. “So long as he doesn’t overwork himself.”

“You’re one to talk, Haruhi,” he retorted. “How long have you been at this?” 

“Oh, about two hours or so,” she answered, screwing up her face in concentration. Her turns were perfect. Controlled and elegant. Or maybe that was just her. 

“So, six hours then,” he teased. “You two are perfect for each other, you know.”

“You know me so well, Iwa-chan,” she laughed, throwing a grin over her shoulder. Something intangible pulled tight behind his ribs, and he fought the urge to grasp the front of his shirt. “So I take it you’re here to take me home?”

“He asked me to walk you,” Iwaizumi said with a shrug, like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Did you cool down yet?” 

“Not yet,” she answered, pulling into her form for turns again. “I can’t quite get this _fouetté_ turn.”

He cocked his eyebrows at her; “I have no idea what that means.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” she riposted, moving into the turns once more. They looked simple and flowing, but judging by the way her face was contorted in concentration and agony, they were not. She spun at a dizzying pace on the points of her toes, her head whipping in a smooth circle with her body. Her cat-like grey eyes were sharp and focused, her soft thighs twitched with exertion, and her long, dark hair had started to come out of its neat bun. It simultaneously looked effortless and exhausting, and yet she did it. Over and over again, until she got it perfect. Because that was the type of person she was.

Despite how impressive it looked, though, it didn’t take long for a sickening crack to echo through the studio, and she stumbled. Iwaizumi didn’t even think--he rushed forward across the polished floor, gripping her upper arm as she gingerly lowered herself to a seated position. She hissed with pain when she took her toe shoe off, and he winced with sympathy when he saw the dark spot of blood on her tights. He scowled when she rolled the foot off, exposing her bandaged and broken toes.

“That’s it,” he said firmly, sitting across from her. “You’re done for the day.”

“What? No, I can just tape it up,” she argued. 

“The toenail is split, and it looks like half your toes are broken anyway, if all this tape is to be believed,” he observed, gesticulating firmly at her battered feet. “I know this is part of pointer dancing or whatever you call it--”

She snorted; “Do you mean _pointe_ dancing?” 

“Sure, why not,” he growled. “Either way, you’re done. We’re going to tape this up, and then I’m taking you home.”

“Ah. I see someone has gone into Mom-mode,” she opined dramatically. “Very well, Iwaizumi. Nurse me back to health and feed me pizza.”

“I said nothing about feeding you pizza,” he said, dabbing gently with the disinfectant. “So, the usual?”

“Sure,” she sighed, whimpering when he finally got around to bandaging her foot. “Ouch… I don’t know how I’m going to manage practice tomorrow.”

“You could always take a break,” Iwaizumi suggested, knowing it was in vain. 

“Out of the question,” she said. “We have auditions for the first recital of the year coming up, and I’d like to try for a principal role this year.”

“How did I know you were going to say that?” Iwaizumi sighed indulgently, helping her to her feet. “Get your shoes; I’ll call ahead for the pizza.”

“I’m paying this time!” Haruhi insisted, gingerly slipping her sneakers on and stashing her ballet slippers in her bag. 

“Not a chance,” he laughed, gently slipping his arm around her waist. Ostensibly, it was to help her limp out of the studio. He convinced himself of that a long time ago--that he didn’t adore the way her soft body felt when it leaned into his side… it was the only way to make it through encounters like this. Still, it was hard to ignore the easy way banter came to the two of them; it was impossible not to notice how good she smelled, or how perfectly she fit in his arms, or how natural it felt to hold her… 

And given the bright, beautiful smile she gave when she saw Oikawa waiting outside the studio, it was impossible to forget that she didn’t belong to him. 

“Tooru!” She scrambled out of Iwaizumi’s arms, throwing herself into Oikawa’s embrace. He made a mock-indignant woof of exertion as he lifted her full off the ground, holding her tight. “I thought you were staying late.”

“I figured the new spiker was so talented, we only needed a little time together,” Oikawa insisted, squeezing Haruhi to his chest. “I wanted to spend some extra time with my Haru-chan.”

“So your coach made you leave?” Haruhi riposted, nuzzling her nose against his. 

“Ah, you caught me, Haru-chan,” Oikawa sighed, leaning into her affectionate touch. “But it doesn’t matter, because I get to spend time with you anyway.”

“Don’t even pretend that you aren’t in an open relationship with me and volleyball, Tooru,” she said, putting her feet flat on the ground. She winced when her injured foot bore her weight, and she shifted. Iwaizumi didn’t think Oikawa would notice, but that was dumb. He noticed almost everything. 

“You’re limping, Haru-chan,” Oikawa chastised. “What did you do this time?” 

Iwaizumi knew she wouldn’t answer, so he did it for her; “Split her toenail doing these crazy turns.”

Oikawa clicked his tongue disapprovingly, tossing his arm around her shoulder; “I’ve warned you about that, Haru-chan. You work yourself too hard.”

“You’re one to talk, you hypocrite,” she exclaimed, jabbing him in the sides. 

“So mean,” he whined with a bright smile, rubbing the offended spot. “You’ve been spending too much time with Iwa-chan!” 

“Call me that again, and I won’t pay for your pizza,” Iwaizumi grumbled, despite his indulgent smile.

“You’re buying pizza?” Oikawa asked, raising his eyebrows. “What’s the occasion?” 

“It only took me one try to get Haruhi out of the studio,” Iwaizumi replied, trying not to let his gaze wander to where Oikawa’s arm was tossed casually over her shoulders, or the place where his thumb brushed against her arm…

“That is a call for celebration!” Oikawa exclaimed. “So the usual, then?”

“Are you sure, Iwaizumi?” Haruhi asked.

“Let him spoil us, Haru-chan,” Oikawa insisted, earning a firm slap on the shoulder from Iwaizumi. “It doesn’t happen often!” 

He was indignant; he threw out his standard, truncated insults and laughed with Haruhi when he seemed so offended. He intentionally ruffled that perfectly coiffed hair, despite it being sweat-damp and fresh from practice… he tried not to feel the keen sting of want when he felt how soft it was against his rough palm. It was because that was how it had always been, and to change it would be to lose them. 

~~~

Loving Oikawa Tooru was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Part of him took great pleasure in the fact that so few people saw past the princely facade. Part of him felt privileged to know the silly, nerdy, alien-loving side of Oikawa. Another part of him--the more prevalent part--felt so helpless when he saw Oikawa work himself to exhaustion over and over again. He felt his heart break little by little when he saw his best friend desperately searching for something real--something good--showing himself little by little, and every time getting shut down. It hurt. 

And yet, he hadn’t realized it was love until University, and he loved him with all his heart. But by the time Iwaizumi figured it out, Oikawa was in love with someone else. 

Haruhi was a ballerina, and like Oikawa, she was dedicated, beautiful, and fiercely determined. It scared him; it sent him into his ‘Mom-mode,’ as Haruhi had taken to calling it. He found himself working overtime to stop those two from killing themselves with their chosen passions. It was terrifying to see, and yet he loved it about them. He loved their constant struggle for the stars, and to him, they deserved them. It didn’t take him long to realize he loved Haruhi, for all her blunt sarcasm and utter lack of people skills. He loved her with all his heart.

It was hard enough falling for his best friend, let alone his best friend’s girl. But what kind of monster fell in love with both? What kind of man was he that he could look at the two most beautiful people in the world, see how happy they were, and want to destroy it? Because that’s what he would do, if he ever let them see. He loved them fiercely, and he would burn their happiness to the ground. Because that was what he did. 

Still, he didn’t mind spending time with them. He didn’t mind eating pizza with the toppings he hated, nor did he mind watching Oikawa fuss over Haruhi’s broken toes or move through her nightly stretches with her. He didn’t mind being in their presence when they were softened and casual and Oikawa was wearing that stupid sweatshirt he’d had since high school. What he did mind, though, was Oikawa’s insistence on an off-campus party. 

“Tooru, how do you even know about an off-campus party?” Haruhi asked, burrowing deeper into Oikawa’s sweatshirt. She was swimming in the thing, and she looked adorable…

“I know a guy,” Oikawa answered with a flippant wave of his hand. 

“I’m going to need more details than that,” Haruhi deadpanned, narrowing her eyes at him. Iwaizumi snorted under his breath. 

“Fine, he is in my finite maths class,” Oikawa insisted. “Used to be a swimmer or something… anyway, his girlfriend is a DJ and she’s giving some performance at a club nearby. I had him put us on the list for tonight, in case we wanted to go.”

“Tonight? Tooru, we needed more notice than that!” Haruhi exclaimed, indicating her ragged sweatshirt for emphasis. “I mean, I’ll go, but I’m going to need some time.”

“Not interested,” Iwaizumi deadpanned. The last thing he wanted was to be crowded into a small, smoky club to listen to shitty, repetitive, pounding music. All that would accomplish was giving him a migraine.

“Come on, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa crooned. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes--he was starting to get that kicked-puppy look, complete with the pouty lips and tilted brows. Damn it, but he was good at that. “It’ll be fun! We don’t have practice tomorrow, and midterms are over!” 

“You seem very insistent on going to a bar for a night,” Iwaizumi said, his eyes narrowing. “What’s your angle, Shittykawa?”

“Mean!” Oikawa whined, flopping his head into Haruhi’s lap. “I just want to go out on a free night with my girlfriend and my best friend; is that too much to ask?” 

Haruhi shook her head, a permissive smile on her face, before she sank her hand into Oikawa’s hair, massaging gently. He made a weird purring sound, burrowing deeper into her embrace, and Iwaizumi felt a pang of jealousy. He wasn’t sure which of them he wanted to be in that situation, and that scared him. Thankfully, it was a familiar pang, and it barely registered on his features. Haruhi gave him a bit of a sideways look, narrowing her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. 

“I suppose if you two are going, someone has to keep you out of trouble,” Iwaizumi conceded, knowing in his heart it was always an empty protest. When Oikawa cracked open a milk-chocolate eye and gave him a bright, happy grin, he knew he was never going to be able to say now. 

~~~

He wished he’d said no. 

It wasn’t that he was bored or anything--quite the contrary, he was having a blast. He’d had a few beers, which had loosened him up considerably, and Oikawa’s swimmer-friend’s girlfriend was surprisingly good. The club was pulsing with intense energy, the smell of sweat and bodies was as pervasive and intoxicating as the alcohol that throbbed in his head and bloodstream. The sense of claustrophobic bliss was heady and perfect, and he wanted nothing more than to press into mass and lose himself in the nearest soft body that was willing. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t really have that option, because the nearest soft bodies belonged to Oikawa and Haruhi. They hadn’t let him out of their sight all night, keeping him near them, and as they descended further into their own intoxication, pressing in closer to him. He could barely control himself--he felt filthy just for putting his hands on her hips as she rolled against him--but she was so soft and warm and graceful. She smelled so good--a combination of her hair products, her perfume, and the clear alcohol she’d been drinking all night. Her skin was heated beneath his touch and he wanted her. He wanted her so badly, and she was flush against his chest. She was so beautiful…

And then, there was Oikawa, pressed in against Haruhi’s back, effectively sandwiching her between their bodies. She looked lost in bliss, and Oikawa had an almost reverent quality to his gaze. Iwaizumi didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable--he usually did when he felt appraised or watched--but he did feel… tight. He had to get away. He had to gain perspective and distance and get some air and…

He had to get away. 

He rushed through the mass of bodies, making his way for the door. His blood rushed in his ears as he tried to shake the image of those two writhing against him like that. It brought up too many images of them moving with him in a more intimate setting. It gave his imagination too much fuel for conjuring fantasies of her pressed into Oikawa’s chest, gazing back at Iwaizumi with longing in her eyes; of Oikawa’s long, slender fingers brushing against the tight, corded muscles of Iwaizumi’s arms; of the two of them lavishing him with attention and affection and praise--

“Iwa-chan has a scary face!” 

He sighed deeply; Haruhi was drunk if she was using Oikawa’s nickname for him. He turned on them with an easygoing smile, but he knew it was tinged with something when Haruhi and Oikawa shared a _look_. 

“Uh-oh,” Oikawa said, crossing his arms. He was suddenly serious, and that never boded well for him. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Iwaizumi answered. He clenched his fists hard; he hated lying to them. Then, he supposed he’d been lying to them since they’d started dating. “I just… needed some air, that’s all.”

“That’s all, hm?” Haruhi crossed her arms, looking up at him through her lashes. “Iwaizumi, you’ve been weird lately. What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he repeated. He was starting to feel a bit like a cornered animal.

“Don’t lie to us, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa countered. Great. Now they were double-teaming him. “Haru-chan is right; and you’re not leaving until we know what’s up.”

“Nothing’s up, alright?” He hated snapping at them, especially when Haruhi visibly recoiled. “It’s just… nothing.”

He sounded too defeated at the end of his sentence. It was too close--they were too close. He hated losing control around them, because the tangible, palpable want he had for them was too visible. It was too easy to sink into their heat and their smell and their voices and just...pretend there was room for him, too. 

Oikawa and Haruhi shared a loaded look, and it almost seemed they were having a silent conversation. They did that all the time, and Iwaizumi hated it, but his protests caught in his throat when they turned those gazes back on him. Oikawa leaned into Haruhi’s space, whispering something in her ear. Her eyes slid closed, and she leaned into him, letting out a soft sigh of bliss. When those long fingers came up to cup her jaw, Iwaizumi felt like a voyeur, and yet he didn’t hate it. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the space where they touched, where their bodies pressed together… he couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to be in that space. The haze of alcohol and adrenaline and lust was making him think crazy things… he’d gone so long waiting, wanting and pining, resolved to remain at a distance. Why couldn’t he keep up the facade in their presence? What was happening? 

Suddenly, Haruhi pulled away from Oikawa, looking at him as if for confirmation, and when he pressed a soft kiss to her temple, she approached with new resolve. She put her small hands flat against Iwaizumi’s chest, pushing him until his back collided with the brick wall behind them. She rocked forward on her tiptoes until she was flush against him, her body pressed deliciously against his. 

“Tell me to stop, and it stops,” she breathed against his lips, the brush of vodka-scented air against his skin raising goosebumps along his arms. “But you can be honest with us... _Hajime_.”

He wasn’t even able to fully register how his name sounded tumbling from her lips like that. He wasn’t even able to get his breathing under control, or regulate his heartbeat, or fully comprehend how completely she was pressed against him, before her lips crashed into his in a bruising kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very NSFW. Like pure smut. Skip if that's not your bag.

He didn’t know how he’d gotten back to their apartment. He didn’t know how he came to be rutting Haruhi against a wall, swallowing her tiny, desperate moans and whimpers and whines. He didn’t know how Oikawa came to be pressed against him, peppering the back of his neck with dozens of soft, teasing kisses. All that mattered was he was wedged between the two of them, and judging by the sounds they were making, they wanted to be there. He normally liked to take it slow with a new partner. He liked to be gentle and romantic. Maybe set the mood, or at least ease them to this point. But desperation, lust, and unrequited want had sent him into a bright red frenzy of need. He needed her skin on his. He needed Oikawa to come undone under his hands. He needed to hear their pleasure-thick voices screaming his name. 

He needed to make every second count. 

Haruhi yanked back from his kiss, gasping for breath. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and dark, and her perfect breasts were heaving with the effort of just drawing air in through her lust-thick haze. She grasped his wrist, pulling his hand up to her mouth, and immediately sucking his index finger between her perfect lips. Her tongue swirled around the tip in a tease, like a preview of what was to come, and she locked eyes with him. That would have been good enough, but then he felt Oikawa’s hands along the curve of his back, his trimmed nails scraping along his shoulders and arms. He hissed, yanking his hand out of Haruhi’s mouth and burying his moans into her kiss once more. She rocked against him, the soaking wet heat of her core brushing against the head of his cock, and he growled--actually fucking growled, like a wild animal. 

“You… you two sure this is ok?” Iwaizumi asked quietly, his voice low and husky with need. 

“If you ask that one more time, I might have to sit on your face to get you to stop,” Haruhi quipped breathily, sucking his lower lip between her teeth. 

Oikawa gripped Iwaizumi’s hips _hard_ , and it caused something primal and demanding to surge through him. He gripped a fistful of Haruhi’s hair, yanking her back into a sinuous arch, and burying his face into the crook of her neck. He revelled in her cry of mingled pleasure and pain, and he bit hard at the soft skin by his lips; “Was that a fucking threat?”

“Oh, God,” Haruhi moaned. “God, I need you both inside me. Please. Fuck me, Hajime. Tooru.” 

“Mm, you beg so pretty, Haru-chan,” Oikawa cooed from somewhere around Iwaizumi’s ear. “Don’t worry. We’ll make you feel good.” 

Iwaizumi was painfully hard, and he knew he wouldn’t last. He hoped they were okay with multiple rounds, because he wanted to savor this. With his hands still fisted in her hair, he shoved her to the floor, sending her to her knees in front of Oikawa. She raised her eyes to gaze at them through her lashes, and if that wasn’t such a beautiful sight… 

“As much as I want your beautiful mouth around my cock, Haru-chan,” Oikawa teased, his thumb pressing against her lower lip. “I want to taste you. I want to taste you while Iwa-chan is fucking you. He’s thicker than me, but he knows how to make it feel good. Will that be alright?”

“Yes, Tooru,” she whispered, leaning into his touch. Iwaizumi gave her hair a sharp tug; blood surged to his cock when she gave a high-pitched, breathy whimper. “Please. I want it.”

“I’m not the one you should be asking, Haru-chan,” Oikawa growled, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Iwaizumi. “Ask nicely.”

“Please, Hajime,” she begged. “Please fuck me, Hajime, please.”

Something snapped inside of Iwaizumi--something drew impossibly tight. He couldn’t handle it anymore. He needed her. He fell to his knees behind her, running his hands along her skin. She pressed her hips back against him, seeking friction, but he held her fast. 

“Let Oikawa make you feel good, first,” he purred, rubbing circles on her hips. 

Oikawa crawled between her splayed legs like a fucking predator, and he’d never looked sexier. His hips swayed as he settled, taking her delicate ankle in his hand. He started kissing up one leg, drawing shuddering little gasps from her. He used his tongue, his teeth, and his lips, and Iwaizumi could actually feel her trembling in his arms. While Oikawa worked her thighs over, Iwaizumi’s hands slid over the curve of her waist before he took her breasts in his hands. They were just barely a handful, but judging by the way she arched, they were so sensitive. He palmed and kneaded the soft flesh, hissing when her writhing ass brushed over his over-sensitive head. He was rock hard, but he had to hold out. He wanted to push in and fuck her into next Sunday, but not yet. He had to wait. He wanted to wait.

Oikawa was sucking dark hickies into her thighs, leaving angry red marks all along the pale skin, before his impossibly full lips came in contact with the seam of her cunt. She cried out, her hips bucking into Oikawa’s face for friction that he just didn’t seem to want to give her. Iwaizumi snaked a hand around her front, his fingers sliding between her lips, and he could feel how soaked she was. Her clit was so engorged, he could feel it peeking out without much effort. He gave it a quick swirl with the pads of his fingers, which had her whimpering and crying. With just that touch, she was already desperate. 

“Goodness, she’s an eager one, isn’t she?” Iwaizumi said, running teasing fingers along her labia. “She’s already so hot and wet and ready.”

“You should feel her inside, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa teased, going back to sucking and biting her thighs, although he had started to change the angle. “Let me get her knees under her. There’s something I want to try.”

Oikawa positioned himself so Haruhi was kneeling over his face and Iwaizumi was behind her, while he straddled Oikawa’s waist. Iwaizumi’s cock was so hard, pulsing and throbbing when the new position caused a fresh wave of wetness to gush out of Haruhi’s cunt. God, this whole situation was so fucking filthy, he could barely stand it. Using one hand, he was able to spread her wide, but he hesitated. 

“I’m on birth control,” she assured, reading his hesitance. “Just… please, Hajime. Please, please put it in, I need it please plea--AH!” 

With a smooth roll of his hips, he hilted her in a single motion. His voice went high and breathy--he was totally overwhelmed with the hot, wet clench of her body. She was so hot and tight and soft. She was perfect. His legs trembled with the effort of letting her adjust; it didn’t take long for the lewd slurping sounds to start coming from between her legs. Oikawa was sucking her clit between his lips with gusto, if his moans were to be believed, and Haruhi started trembling. She was going silent, and he could feel her start to clench around him. She was going to come, and he wanted to make it great for her. 

He carefully started to rock forward, angling his hips to look for that special spot inside of her. He knew he found it when she shrieked, her hands scrabbling across Oikawa’s chest for purchase. He went slowly, dragging his oversensitive head across her g-spot, and practically fucking whining when he felt her clench around him. 

“Oh God,” she gasped. “I’m going to come. I’m coming, Hajime. Tooru. Don’t stop, please.”

Iwaizumi watched Oikawa drag his nails _hard_ down her thighs, leaving angry red marks across her hips and legs. She came around him with a wet gush, clenching tightly as she proceeded to soak Iwaizumi’s hips and thighs. Iwaizumi gazed between her legs, nearly jumping out of his skin when he felt Oikawa’s tongue against his balls and the base of his cock. His hips stuttered when he looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with Oikawa. His eyes were dark with lust and want, and the teasing tip of his tongue was quickly sending Iwaizumi over the edge. 

He needed more. He groped around for his pants, yanking his belt out of his belt loops, and hastily winding it around Haruhi’s wrists, effectively holding her in place. She cried out suddenly at the sensation of being bound, leaning back on Iwaizumi’s chest. Her head dropped onto his shoulder as he yanked hard on the belt, thrusting hard enough to hear the slap of skin. He rested his big hand over her mouth, holding her flush against him, while not once tearing his eyes away from Oikawa. Her muffled moans and Oikawa’s tongue quickly caused the tight fist of pleasure in his stomach to snap, and he only just pulled out in time. 

With an embarrassing whimper, he thrust a few times against Haruhi’s clit, coming explosively all over her stomach and Oikawa’s face. He distinctly heard Oikawa’s desperate moans as Iwaizumi’s come splattered over his face and neck. Iwaizumi gently lifted Haruhi off to the side, his eyes widening when he took Oikawa’s completely wrecked appearance in. He was a mess--his lips were bruised and swollen, his eyes were lidded, and his cheeks were flushed under the thick, white spend that dotted his face. He was panting, his mouth wide open, and Iwaizumi just then noticed the glistening evidence of Haruhi’s orgasms coating around his mouth, neck and chest. 

Haruhi looked behind her, drawing attention to Oikawa’s painfully-hard cock--so hard, the head was a dark, angry purple--and he practically trembled under their gaze. She smirked, sliding her hand across Oikawa’s torso. He whimpered, arching into her touch, ready for the relief her hand brought him, but Iwaizumi slapped the top of her hand. 

“Don’t touch him yet, Haruhi,” he ordered. 

Oikawa made a desperate noise, giving Iwaizumi a look that begged him for an explanation. Iwaizumi carefully propped him against his chest, running his hands over Oikawa’s tight abdominals and chest. Haruhi carefully adjusted his legs, spreading his thighs to give her a space to settle into. She was still decidedly avoiding Oikawa’s erection, despite how it throbbed at her. 

“You look so hard, baby,” she cooed, pressing teasing kisses to his thighs and hips. He whimpered and bucked, but between her and Iwaizumi holding him, he was effectively bracketed to the floor. “Do you want my mouth, baby?”

“Yes, please,” he begged, squirming against Iwaizumi. “Please, Haruhi. My sweet angel, please.”

God, he could beg so pretty. Iwaizumi ran a gentle hand through Oikawa’s hair, and he visibly relaxed against his chest. He ran his tongue along Oikawa’s neck, licking Haruhi’s arousal from the flushed skin. Oikawa whimpered and cried, arching against Iwaizumi’s mouth, silently begging for more. Iwaizumi grinned, biting hard against the corded muscle by his shoulder. 

“You can suck him now, Haruhi,” Iwaizumi said, gently running his hands through Oikawa’s hair. “Take him to the root and make him come, but I want to see it on your pretty face. Understood?”

“Yes,” she breathed, sucking Oikawa to the base with a single motion. He watched her throat work and bob, a shimmering line of drool already making its way over Oikawa’s hips. He arched and his mouth opened in a silent scream; what little sound he could make was about two octaves higher than his normal voice. She hummed and moaned, eliciting the most delicious little whines from the back of Oikawa’s throat. 

Iwaizumi continued pressing gentle kisses along the curve of Oikawa’s neck. His thumb wiped through the pools of cooling come, cleaning it off of Oikawa’s face and presenting it to him to be licked. Oikawa happily obliged, leaning into Iwaizumi’s hand in his hair. 

“You’re so beautiful, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi purred, taking the shell of Oikawa’s ear between his teeth, worrying it gently with his lips. “You did so good. You’re doing so well… you’re making me feel so good, Oikawa.”

He moaned at the praise, his body silently begging for something. Iwaizumi skimmed his hands over the slim chest, so much paler than his own, and roughly pulled on the small, pert nipples. He rolled them in his rough fingers, squeezing until Oikawa’s toes curled against the carpet. Oikawa was practically screaming; Haruhi was watching from between his thighs, her tongue sloppily working the underside of Oikawa’s dick like a favorite sweet. 

“Haruhi looks so beautiful like that, with your cock between those perfect lips of hers,” Iwaizumi praised. “Open your eyes, Oikawa. Watch her.”

Oikawa angled his head downward, making eye contact with her, before sinking a hand into her hair. He was trembling so hard, he looked like he might shake apart; his other hand came back and gripped the hair at the base of Iwaizumi’s neck, not necessarily pulling but more holding on for dear life. Haruhi’s hands were toying with his abdominals in a feather-light touch; he was trembling in Iwaizumi’s arms, his breath coming in high-pitched, impossibly loud sobs. His breath was hitched and shallow, and when his head fell back against Iwaizumi’s shoulder, his eyes had rolled back into his head. 

“Do you want to come, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi growled, already feeling painfully hard again. 

“Please,” Oikawa sobbed. “Please, please let me come. I need it… Ah! Please, Hajime!” 

Oikawa was screaming loud enough to ring in Iwaizumi’s ears, so he stuffed two fingers into Oikawa’s mouth, massaging down on his tongue to effectively muffle him. Haruhi pulled back just in time to receive a facefull of Oikawa’s come, groaning as he bobbed in her hand. Iwaizumi was painfully hard once again, the tenuous grip on his self control straining and twisting in his grasp. It was more than the fact that they looked utterly and completely wrecked--and it was all for him--but the way Oikawa had said his name… Fuck.

“Look at her, Oikawa,” he commanded, fisting the soft brown hair to push his head forward. “Look how beautiful she looks; look how fucking filthy she looks.”

Oikawa moaned loudly, his breath hitching and his cock giving a half-hearted twitch at the sight of Haruhi on her knees, covered in his come; “I like how filthy she looks.”

“Clean her off for me,” Iwaizumi commanded. “Show her how much you appreciate her hard work.”

Oikawa surged forward, taking her hair in his fists. His tongue ran along her face, swallowing his own spend like it was the sweetest treat, whimpering and gasping when she held his shoulders. When he was finished, he drew her in for a fierce kiss, whispering sweet nothings as he desperately sought their praise. 

“Good job,” she cooed, running her hands in soothing circles on his back. “So good, Tooru.”

Iwaizumi was rock hard again, and he hissed when he squeezed his length in his fist to relieve some of the pressure. When he looked up, he saw Oikawa and Haruhi’s gazes locked between his legs, staring at him like they were awaiting something… commands. That was it. He crooked his finger, gasping softly when they crawled over to him; their eyes were lidded and heavy and dark, and their mouths were parted on equally needy pouts. He fisted his hands in their hair, first drawing Haruhi into a fierce kiss. Kissing her was so unbearably sweet as her soft lips parted for him; her tongue snaked between his lips, massaging the roof of his mouth and overwhelming him in ways he hadn’t expected. He pulled her away and pressed against Oikawa’s mouth next. Oikawa’s kisses overwhelmed him in a completely different way. They were a bit sloppy, but enthusiastic and so, so good. He sucked and bit at Iwaizumi’s lips, whimpering and moaning when Iwaizumi’s fists tightened in his hair. He pulled away, revelling in their tiny whines, until he nodded down to his painfully hard erection. 

“Mind taking care of this for me?” 

God, it was like flipping a switch. One moment, they sat there passively, awaiting his direction. The next, they were on him like starved animals, practically fighting over his cock. They alternated--Haruhi was a bit more skilled at taking him deeply, swallowing around him and swirling her tongue just the way he liked. Oikawa made pretty little choking noises as he struggling to take his girthy length all the way in. When one pulled off, the other was there to replace them. They licked and sucked him with enthusiasm and skill, and he couldn’t take much more. It was Haruhi’s turn, and he was approaching overstimulation, and he didn’t care. He folded his hands over the back of her neck, holding himself down her throat. 

“Can I come down this pretty throat?” Iwaizumi asked. She moaned her consent, and Oikawa nodded emphatically. With a whimper and whine, Iwaizumi pressed harder, eliciting a little choke from Haruhi before she adjusted, and practically screamed when she swallowed every drop. He was still crying out when Oikawa grabbed the sides of his face, pulling him into an enthusiastic kiss, pulling and tugging Iwaizumi’s lips between his teeth. It took a moment before Iwaizumi realized he was grasping both of their hair, holding them in place. “So good. God, you two are so good.”

In his haze of pleasure, he couldn’t even feel awkward. He couldn’t even be upset, or worry about what would happen in the cold, harsh light of day. In that moment, he could only care about the two people who had invited him into their bedroom and had been so good to him. He could only care that they’d both collapsed to the floor, and were trembling and clinging to each other. They visibly relaxed when Iwaizumi ran soft, soothing touches over their bodies. 

“You were both so good to me,” he praised, smiling gently when they gazed up at him. “Let me take care of you.”


	3. Chapter 3

The smell of coffee was pervasive and disorienting, if comforting. It was impossible to get fresh coffee in student housing, so Iwaizumi figured he could possibly get used to waking up to it. He was surrounded by different scents and aromas, from the fresh coffee to Oikawa’s expensive laundry soap to Haruhi’s coconut shampoo. It made him want to bury further into the large, too-comfortable bed and never come out. What snapped him to attention was the strong smell of _sex_ that permeated the room. He could clearly see the images of them behind his eyelids, writhing under his hands, wrecked and begging and messy… he snapped his eyes open, but all that did was serve as a reminder that he wasn’t having an impossibly beautiful dream. He was actually in Haruhi and Oikawa’s bed, wrapped in their too-fluffy comforter, surrounded by too many pillows. Iwaizumi snorted to himself, stretching hugely. Oikawa always had been a bit of a sucker for an over-made bed, and he’d never outgrown the habit. 

He padded out into the kitchen, following the soft sounds of Oikawa and Haruhi’s laughter. They were bent towards one another, her with her leg thrown up on the counter to stretch it, while he busied himself at the stove. They were both sleep rumpled, with messy hair and soft, wrinkled pajamas. Oikawa was wearing his glasses, which must have meant he got up at some point and took out his contacts. Judging by the red rims around his eyes, he slept with them in for at least a couple hours. Another thing Iwaizumi noticed were the smiles they wore--Iwaizumi could always tell Oikawa’s genuine smile, because it wasn’t pretty. It was kind of crooked and goofy and pulled at a little dimple that Oikawa sort of hated, but it softened his eyes in a way that brightened his whole face. When he gathered Haruhi into his arms and whispered something into her ear, the whole back of her neck turned pink, but they both started giggling. It was sort of… a perfect domestic morning. Making breakfast, the smell of coffee, inside jokes and rumped pajamas… 

The only evidence of the night before were the dark, purpling hickies that dotted Haruhi’s thighs. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but remember how those thighs had felt under his hands--so soft and supple and easily marked--and he felt a fresh rush of desire at the thought. He remembered Oikawa begging for him, writhing under his touch, leaning into him to seek affection like a spoiled cat…

Screaming his name. His _first_ name. 

Iwaizumi pressed a hand against his chest, heat rushing the his face and limbs, as he was hit with the weight of what had happened the night before. He slept with his best friends. It was his first threesome, and it had been more than intense. It had been Earth-shaking. World shattering. Everything about the night before had shaken him to his core, making him question every thought, feeling, and emotion he’d felt in their presence since he’d met them… 

“Oh, Hajime,” Haruhi greeted brightly, effectively getting Oikawa’s attention. Iwaizumi jumped--he hadn’t noticed that she’d seen him--and rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. Still, Haruhi continued to grin brightly, approaching him with confidence and ease. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

“Um… yeah,” Iwaizumi answered, not meeting her eyes. They were bright and silvery that morning, but he knew what they looked like lidded, heavy and darkened with lust. He might have been imagining it, but her lips still looked swollen and bruised; the sloppy braid over her shoulder made him want to wrap it around his fist, pulling her back into that beautiful arch again, kissing the life out of her… 

“Earth to Iwa-chan!” Oikawa called from across the kitchen, sliding an omelet out of the frying pan and onto a plate. “Glad you slept well! There’s coffee in the press, and I made eggs.” 

Moving around the apartment that morning was… awkward, to say the least. It looked like Oikawa and Haruhi had a rhythm, judging by the way they seemed to go about tasks without thinking. Yet, Iwaizumi kept bumping into them, or standing in the way--throwing a discordant note into their domestic ease--and if that wasn’t symbolic, he didn’t know what was. 

And yet, they kept making adjustments. Oikawa pulled his laptop closer to him so Iwaizumi would have more room on the table, and Haruhi had fixed him a cup of coffee just the way he liked it, which baffled him. Oikawa liked a splash of coffee with his cream and sugar, while Haruhi drank it straight and black, but she’d made it perfectly. He didn’t know if it was a coincidence, or if she had in fact been watching him that closely… The silence wasn’t awkward so much as it was comfortable, like they were OK just being in his presence. But the thing that everyone kept avoiding hung firmly in the air; it was thick and tangible, and yet they continued to dance around it. 

They’d had the most mind blowing sex together the night before; and now they desperately wanted to do it again. But of course, no one could come out and just say it… right? 

Iwaizumi stood suddenly from the table, knocking into it in his haste; “Well… I have to go.”

“Hajime?” Haruhi cocked her head at him, her eyes a little too piercing, like they could see through him. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, wincing when Oikawa glared at him over the top of his frames. “I just… I need some...space.”

He didn’t wait for a reply; he was too scared. He jammed his feet into his sneakers and all but sprinted out the door, not sure if he was fleeing their scrutiny or their indifference. 

~~~

Oikawa had brought the concept of a threesome up with Haruhi multiple times over the course of their relationship. She was fairly adventurous, sexually speaking--evidenced by the innocuous-looking chest of _unmentionables_ at the foot of their bed--so she’d been amiable. In the end, he knew no matter what direction they went in, it _had_ to be what was best for them. Haruhi was his world, and no exploration of their sexuality was worth losing what he’d built with her. She was the first in years to see him--truly see him--and not flinch away. He loved her for it. 

And yet, he felt torn, because the more time he spent with Iwaizumi and Haruhi, the less he could see himself living without the two of them. Both of them. And how fucking selfish could he be? At first, he was afraid he was reverting to old habits or possibly regressing to childhood feelings, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He’d never stopped loving Iwaizumi--the first person to ever really see him. Iwaizumi had always been hard on him, called him out on his bullshit, and yet… he looked out for him. Oikawa sometimes teased him for it, but he’d never been more grateful for Iwaizumi than his first year at University. 

When he’d come out of the studio with Haruhi, Oikawa had been struck dumb. There was something about the easy, fond smile he got when he thought no one was looking. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbow, and Oikawa was convinced those forearms ought to be illegal. Because they were literally perfect. Iwaizumi was literally perfect--a God among men. Not a single thing on him could be described as slender, slim, soft, or wiry. He was all thick muscle--powerful, rippling and hard--under golden skin. It took seeing Haruhi limp towards him for him to realize he’d been ogling. Again. 

Oikawa knew that Iwaizumi hated mushrooms and green peppers on pizza, but mushrooms were Oikawa’s favorite, and green peppers were Haruhi’s (the heathen), but for some reason he always insisted that he was fine. He also hated clubs, and yet when Oikawa had insisted they go out that night, he’d agreed to tag along. He wasn’t sure why Iwaizumi hated clubs--he always seemed to have a good time, and he was usually pleasantly drunk and happy as they left--but he seemed to be acting strangely that night. They were taking a break away from the floor where they could hear themselves think. Haruhi scowled at a lipstick print on her glass. 

“I should go freshen up,” she said suddenly, sliding off her stool. 

“You look beautiful as always, Haru-chan,” Oikawa assured, poking her in the side.

“Yeah, well, I want to make sure I don’t look like a crazy clown or something,” she replied dryly. 

“I think you look lovely,” Iwaizumi said suddenly with a shrug, not looking up from the bottom of his glass.

They all froze as the weight of what he’d just said settled over them. Haruhi’s eyes flickered back and forth between Iwaizumi and Oikawa before she forced a nervous smile; “I think I’ll check anyway. Can’t trust you boys with anything.”

“That’s so sexist, it hurts, Haru-chan,” Oikawa teased, but he turned back to his drink to let her go anyway. As she passed, her hand brushed against the small of his back. Haruhi was an affectionate person, so he didn’t think much of it, until she gave the back of his shirt a sharp tug. He quirked his brow at her, barely catching her jerking her head towards the restrooms. He gave her a count of ten before he rose to follow. “I’ll be back, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi snorted under his breath, not making eye contact; “Use protection.” 

Oikawa recoiled a bit; despite the gentle jab, it was completely without mirth. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to leave Iwaizumi alone… and yet, something in Haruhi’s demeanor told him to follow. He shoved through the press of bodies, slipping through the door she’d left cracked for him. 

“Is something wrong?” Oikawa asked, closing the door behind him. 

She was twisting her lipstick tube over and over in her hands, her index finger tapping irregularly on it. She wasn’t making eye contact; “Tooru, there’s something I wanted to ask.”

He shook his head fondly. She was so transparent sometimes; “What’s the matter, Haruhi?” 

She huffed out a little laugh, leaning into his side; “You used my full name; am I really that obvious?” 

“Only to me, Haru- _chan_ ,” he replied, throwing his arm around her shoulder and pressing a kiss to her temple. “Talk to me.”

“It’s just,” she began haltingly, biting her lip. He sighed his disapproval, giving her chin a little tug. She was going to start bleeding again. “The idea of a threesome… are you still open to that?” 

Oikawa blinked owlishly at her; “Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?” 

“Just answer the question, Tooru!” She slumped sheepishly following her little outburst. “Sorry, you didn’t deserve that.”

“Oh, I probably did something to deserve that at some point,” he said. “And yeah, so long as you’re alright with it and we agree on the partner, then sure.”

“Then what about Iwa--um...Hajime?” 

Oikawa’s reply got stuck somewhere in his throat. Iwaizumi? Really? He almost felt ashamed--of course his massive crush on his childhood friend had been a factor in all of it. Of course Iwaizumi was the dream--the fantasy--but he’d had no idea that she would ask for it. 

“Are… are you sure?” 

“Well, I mean, he would have to agree to it,” she babbled, suddenly fiddling with her clutch. “And I can totally understand if you don’t want to risk your friendship with him, but--”

“Are you attracted to Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked, trying not to sound judgemental. After all, that would make him a bit of a hypocrite.

“Umm… sort of? I mean, objectively those muscles of his are just art,” she said. She grinned up at him, looking braver by the minute. “But this isn’t just about me, Tooru. It’s about you, too, and… I want to give you the things you want.”

“And what makes you think I want Iwa-chan in… that way?” Oikawa teased, leaning forward to look her in the eye. 

“Um...because I have eyes?”

He laughed at that. Honestly, seriously laughed as he gathered her into his arms; “How in the world did I get so lucky?”

“I am a literal angel, Tooru. Cherish me,” she retorted. “Come on. I’m pretty sure he thinks we’re fucking in here, and that might make the conversations we need to have...awkward.”

_Well, it might be too late for that, but we’ll see._

But it didn’t seem that Iwaizumi wanted to give them a chance to talk to him. After one dance, he’d fled, and when they’d cornered him, he was just as reticent as always. They did have one advantage, though. Whatever barrier that he tended to throw up had been effectively smashed by something that night--be it alcohol or want or fear, Oikawa couldn’t be sure. He looked so shaken and vulnerable, like he needed something he was too afraid to voice. 

Haruhi turned towards Oikawa, like she was seeking confirmation. It was the moment, at least it seemed like the moment. Maybe none of them were in the right mindset at the time, and it was probably a huge mistake, but to them, it felt like a spell had been placed over that specific second in time, and if they let it pass, it would disappear forever. He leaned forward, brushing her hair back from her ear. 

“You’re sure?” 

She nodded, drawing her lip between her teeth. He chuckled quietly, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, giving her hair one last touch--one last assurance--before he let her approach Iwaizumi. He knew the look she would have--dark and predatory, with a coy touch of innocence that was irresistible. Her hips twitched with her deliberate walk, and when she surged forward to steal a fierce kiss from Iwaizumi, Oikawa felt a lightning bolt surge through him. Iwaizumi’s hands wavered in the air, like a drowning man debating whether or not to take the life preserver, before he wrapped those strong arms around Haruhi’s waist and drew her close. 

Oikawa knew Haruhi was beautiful, and Iwaizumi was probably one of the most attractive men he knew… but seeing them together? It was a whole other experience. Jealousy hit him like a whipcrack for a split second before it gently faded. Something about it felt _right_ , like he was complete for the first time in so long, even if he wasn’t a part of it. Despite the fact their chosen hiding spot was less than private, it felt like such a shockingly intimate moment, like he was sharing something that was always meant to be shared. 

“Come home with us, Hajime,” Haruhi purred, and _damn_ , the way she said Iwaizumi’s name did things to Oikawa. He could only imagine what it did to Iwaizumi. 

“But--” Iwaizumi blinked a few times, like he wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. “I don’t… I mean--”

“Please, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa interjected, suddenly a little afraid. If Iwaizumi turned them down now…

Oikawa was snapped out of his reverie by a sharp knock on the door. It was frantic and desperate. Ever since Iwaizumi left that morning after a _fucking unbelievable_ night, Oikawa had been doing what he did best--obsessing. Haruhi had left him to his thoughts after making him _swear_ that he would text her in two hours. He glanced at his phone--barely 90 minutes since she’d left for rehearsal. He shrugged, heaving off the couch to answer the door. 

“Did you forget something, Haru-chan? Honestly you can be so--Iwa-chan!” 

Iwaizumi was standing in the doorway, clenched and shaking and obviously _livid._ He was taking deep, steadying breaths, and for a panicked second, Oikawa was sure that he was mad about the night before. _Oh god,_ what if Iwaizumi found it too weird? Was it weird? He’d never exactly come out to Iwaizumi, but he never felt like he had to! Did he have a problem with--

“I got thrown out of my dorm.”

Oikawa’s train of thought came to a screeching, grinding halt; “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Sorry, I thought you were going somewhere different, given how mad you look.”

“Of course I’m mad!” Iwaizumi snapped. “Weren’t you listening? I got thrown out of my fucking dorm!” 

Oikawa stepped aside, ushering him into the apartment. Iwaizumi took the opportunity and tossed himself on the couch, grabbing the pillow Oikawa had been clutching and shoving it over his face. Oikawa folded himself onto the other side of the couch, drawing his knees close to his chest; “What happened? Why did you get thrown out?” 

“The whole building got thrown out,” Iwaizumi explained, pulling the pillow of his face. “500 students now have to be relocated and rehoused because their fucking building wasn’t up to code at the start of the year, so it’s been deemed ‘unfit.’” 

“That’s… dumb,” Oikawa said, quirking his brow. He thanked every lucky star he had that he and Haruhi had opted out of student housing. 

“You bet your ass it’s dumb,” Iwaizumi growled. “They’re reimbursing me all my housing fees, but after that, I’m pretty much fucked. The rest of the dorms are full, and I don’t think there’s going to be many options for roommates at this stage in the game.” 

“So what are you going to do?” 

Iwaizumi ran his hands through his hair; “I don’t know. I called coach about athlete housing, but he said it’s all full. Fuck, I can’t commute to school. You of all people know Mom lives too far away. Shit.” 

There was an obvious solution… it was like fate. Or destiny. Or contrived coincidences. He wasn’t sure, but Oikawa scooched a little closer; “There’s another option, you know.”

“Is there? I’d love to hear it,” Iwaizumi murmured. He sounded so tired… 

“Haruhi and I have a spare room,” Oikawa offered. “It’s not big, but the rent’s reasonable, and we’re close to campus.” 

“You’re suggesting I move in with you?” Iwaizumi deadpanned. “What about Haruhi? Won’t she mind?”

“She’s been suggesting we get a roommate for some time,” Oikawa replied. “It won’t be a big deal; I can call her right now, if you want. She’ll be going on break soon.”

“That’s not necessary,” Iwaizumi said, holding out a hand. “I mean… won’t it be weird?”

“Weird?” 

“After last night.” Iwaizumi ran his hands through his hair, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. “Last night was… unbelievable.”

“So… what, we just pretend it didn’t happen?” 

Oikawa stared at a spot on the wall, letting sensations from the night before wash over him. A delightful shiver ran down his spine and a pleasant heat pooled in his stomach; “Of course not! Actually, if you were up for a repeat, I don’t think I could say no.”

“But… Won’t it be weird?” Iwaizumi asked haltingly. He was repeating himself, which never boded well. “I mean, we’re best friends, and… I don’t want to get between you and Haruhi. She’s good for you, you know?” 

The pleasant heat turned to ice in the span of a heartbeat… he felt so stupid. Of course Iwaizumi wouldn’t feel like that about him. He never had--they’d literally known each other all their lives. If he did, he’d have made his move by then. To stave off the sudden panic, he slapped on his fakest, most plastic smile; “Of course not. Haruhi and I are unshakeable. But we can still have sex, Iwa-chan, if you want a repeat of last night.”

“And Haruhi’s OK with that?” 

“We’ve talked about it. We’d have to work out all the details and what not, but she was pretty into last night too, you know,” Oikawa replied. “Besides, it’s just for fun. No feelings or anything.” 

Iwaizumi gave him an unreadable look, like that wasn’t _quite_ what he wanted to hear. Still, he drew his bottom lip between his teeth, staring at a spot on the rug like it had personally offended him. He was silent for so long, Oikawa was ready to back pedal, but when those green eyes swept up to meet his, they were dark and heated and full of longing; “Just sex?” 

“Just sex.”

“Haruhi too?” 

“If you want,” Oikawa said with a shrug. 

“And you’re OK with this?” 

“If you want me to prove just how OK I am,” Oikawa purred. “I can.” 

In a quick movement, he was straddling Iwaizumi’s lap, grinding down _hard_. He lost himself in the sensation, letting his hips whip back and forth and burying his hand in Iwaizumi’s hair. It was just sex. Just sex. No feelings. No relationship. Just for pleasure. 

He would prove it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who leaves kudos and comments and feedback!!! I am enjoying writing this so much, so I am so glad people have been liking it, too!!!


	4. Chapter 4

Honestly, he hadn’t had a good dry-humping session since early high school, and even then, for some reason, it wasn’t as good as with Iwaizumi. Probably because it was Iwaizumi specifically, with his strong musk and soft cologne and slightly-chapped lips.Those strong, calloused hands gripped Oikawa’s hips, controlling the pace and keeping him pressed right against the steadily hardening line of his cock. Oikawa groaned when the bulbous head brushed against his perineum through his sweatpants; he buried his face into Iwazumi’s neck, licking gently at the salty sweat that started to bead there. Iwaizumi gasped, his fingers digging hard enough to leave marks. 

“I want you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa panted, pressing frantic kisses to Iwaizumi’s lips, curling his tongue out, desperately seeking contact. Iwaizumi obliged with a growl, surging upward. Oikawa felt a sharp pang of desire when he felt those muscles flex under his hand. 

Once Iwaizumi was in a standing position, Oikawa’s legs wrapped around his waist, he started moving towards the back. Towards the bedroom. Oikawa pulled back from their kiss; “Wait, no. Wait.”

“Is everything alright?” Iwaizumi asked, his whole demeanor changing from sex-starved animal to concerned best friend, and honestly the juxtaposition made Oikawa’s cock twitch. “Do you need to stop.”

“No,” Oikawa gasped, biting his lower lip. “Just… take me here. I need you now, Iwa-chan. I need you to bend me over and fuck me into the floor. Please.”

“Don’t you have lube and shit in there? We’re probably going to need it,” Iwaizumi pointed out. 

Oikawa nodded towards the side table a mere arm’s length from them; “Check the drawer.” 

Iwaizumi pulled a bit of a face, but with a shrug, he tugged open the drawer. Sure enough, a brand new bottle of lube was the only thing there, along with a small, pink bullet vibe. Iwaizumi’s eyes widened, his brows raising impossibly high, before he glanced at Oikawa with questions in his eyes. 

Oikawa could only shrug; “Haruhi and I like to be prepared.”

“For what, exactly?” 

Oikawa shot him a devilish smirk; “I can’t have some spontaneity in my relationship? Now are you going to fuck me, or am I going to have to do it myself?”

He pitched his weight forward, sending them tumbling to the ground. Iwaizumi softened the landing a little, and Oikawa ended up in a very advantageous position, straddling Iwaizumi’s waist. He knew any other day, Iwaizumi would have made a smart remark about fucking himself, probably accompanied with a sharp smack to his shoulder, but it was clear he was too far gone to care anymore. Judging by the way he hissed when the curve of Oikawa’s ass brushed against the painfully hard line of his erection, that sort of talk was the furthest thing from his mind. 

“Fuck, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi groaned, arching into his body, desperately seeking friction. 

“Good idea,” Oikawa teased, whipping his t-shirt off over his head. 

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” 

“Sort of,” Oikawa answered honestly, tugging Iwaizumi’s pants down over his hips. “Haruhi and I have experimented, so I know the mechanics at play, and I know how to make it feel good.” 

Iwaizumi’s cock sprang free, the dark purple head weeping precome. He was hard and wet and ready, and Oikawa remembered its taste. He remembered the salty bitterness on his tongue, the weight of the ache in his jaw, the slightly-uncomfortable if not totally unpleasant gagging sensation as his throat closed around it… But judging by the way his breath was making Iwaizumi’s hips buck, he wouldn’t last. Oikawa kicked himself out of his lounge pants, already popping the cap on the bottle of lube. 

He’d caught a glimpse of Iwaizumi’s cock the previous night. He’d seen it slam into Haruhi, drawing the most delicious sounds from her. He’d had it shoved down his throat and pressed against the curve of his back, but in this new compromising position it appeared… bigger. Wider. Intimidating, even. He would have to prepare himself. He drizzled the lube on his fingers, pressing them into his ass gently. He groaned, bucking into his own hand. 

“God, you look so fucking filthy like that,” Iwaizumi growled. Oikawa froze for a moment, his eyes flickering up to meet Iwaizumi’s. His eyes were dark, dangerous and lustful, the pretty green swallowed up by lust-blown pupils. “Look at you fuck yourself like that, getting yourself ready for my cock. I can’t wait to wreck you.”

Oikawa groaned again, pressing his face against Iwaizumi’s hip, his eyelashes catching on the fabric of Iwaizumi’s shirt. He hadn’t even bothered to undress Iwaizumi, and he couldn’t wait anymore. He took what remained of the lube on his fingers and pumped it over Iwaizumi’s cock once. Twice. Before he scrambled to straddle his hips. Iwaizumi growled again when Oikawa reached to line him up with his entrance. 

_Oh God_ , the burning stretch was almost too much. He had to go _excruciatingly_ slowly; his ass clenched, protesting the invasion, but in the end it just made it feel better. Iwaizumi’s breathing had become labored, and there was a high-pitched sound that sounded remarkably like a whine as Oikawa continued to sink down on his cock. 

“God, Iwa-chan, you’re so _thick_ ,” Oikawa sighed once he was fully hilted. 

“You alright?” Iwaizumi’s voice had dropped a few octaves, and his fingers were grasping desperately at nothing in an attempt not to move. 

“I just… I just need a minute,” Oikawa sighed, whipping his hips in lazy circles in an attempt to get used to the sensation. Iwaizumi was hot and heavy inside of him, reaching places he didn’t know he had. Iwaizumi snarled at the utter lack of friction, narrowly resisting the urge to buck into him. Oikawa, on the other hand, was starting to adjust, and his fingers scrabbled at Iwaizumi’s chest for purchase. He grabbed the soft cotton t-shirt for dear life, continuing to move in teasing little circles. “Oh… Oh God you’re so--ng… Ha! You’re so good, Iwa-chan. You feel amazing.”

“Seems like you’re plenty adjusted,” Iwaizumi moaned, gripping Oikawa’s hips a little harder than necessary. “Please move, Oikawa… God, I can’t--”

“No, that’s ok,” Oikawa teased, rising to his full height and ceasing all movement. “This is nice.” 

“Nope,” Iwaizumi growled. 

It happened so fast, Oikawa could barely register it. Iwaizumi’s hand sank into his hair, pulling hard. He pulled out harshly, drawing a whine out of Oikawa’s chest, and slammed him forward onto the coffee table. It hurt a little, but in the best way, and it wasn’t so hard that it did any sort of damage. Oikawa panted unevenly, his mouth popped open in surprise, as frenzied hands adjusted his hips, spreading his thighs just this side of painful. He jumped when the cold lube drizzled generously over his ass.

“This ass is mine,” Iwaizumi said simply, almost deadpan, as he tossed the bottle haphazardly across the room. Somehow that made it that much hotter, and Oikawa practically came all over himself just from the action. He felt Iwaizumi’s thick cock lining up with his entrance, but he didn’t move. Oikawa shifted his hips, trying to encourage him to push forward, but he was rewarded with a hard slap against the plush of his ass. “You’ll get it when I want to give it to you, Oikawa. Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” Oikawa whispered, letting his eyes slide closed. 

Another slap, this time on the thigh; “Louder.”

“I want it!” 

Iwaizumi bent forward, and the next thing he knew, teeth sank into the skin of his back. He sobbed around a ragged scream; “I want it, please! Please, I want it, Iwa-chan!” 

Nails scraped cruelly down his back, and he knew in his heart of hearts they were going to leave marks. He wanted it. Iwaizumi’s hand closed over the back of his neck, effectively pinning him to the table, before slamming home, hilting Oikawa in a single motion. Oikawa could barely string two coherent thoughts together as Iwaizumi set a punishing pace, gripping Oikawa’s wrists for leverage. He could only scream, bracketed as he was by Iwaizumi’s strong body, and take it. His cock was bobbing between his legs, painfully hard and untouched. 

“Are you going to come, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi snarled. 

“Y-yes.” 

“Did I say you could?” 

“No! Please, please let me, please I need it Iwa-chan, please!”

“I love it when you beg for me,” Iwaizumi said, his hips stuttering as his own end approached. “Come for me, Oikawa.” 

The short command snapped something in Oikawa. He could no longer control his own body or his volume. He spasmed uncontrollably around Iwaizumi’s cock, covering the floor beneath him in thick ropes of come, getting it all over his thighs and knees in the process. The only evidence of Iwaizumi’s orgasm was the small, vulnerable whimper at the back of his throat before Oikawa felt overwhelmed with the warm flood inside of him. He groaned and whined and cried out as he ground back on Iwaizumi. Hot fluid ran down his legs, making him feel filthy and wrecked… and he loved every second. He’d have basked in that feeling for hours… if not for a soft, sardonic voice cutting through their fresh afterglow. 

“Ah. I see you boys got started without me, then.” 

Oikawa froze. Haruhi was home early. 

~~~

When Sato Haruhi had met Oikawa Tooru, she was not in the best mindset. It her was 7:15 a.m. Anatomy lab, her coffee maker had decided to commit suicide that morning, and her oh-so-vital textbook had cost her the equivalent of a month’s rent in an upscale Tokyo loft. Still, it was her first year of University. She had to remain positive, despite the fact that her feet were killing her from breaking in brand new toe shoes, her ballet studio was a pretty solid commute from her dorm, and lab partners were being assigned that morning. Hokkaido was a long ways away from Tokyo, and she didn’t know anyone, her roommate was kind of awful… overall, she’d been having a bad week. 

Then she’d met her lab partner. He gave her a cheerful “You must be Sato-san! I’m Oikawa!” He might have been attractive--with his long lashes, flawless skin, and thick, wavy brown hair, but there was something… off. There was something fake and mean about his smile that instantly put her off, and the sing-song quality of his voice was grating. She scowled--oh, it was going to be a long year.

Overall, her relationship with Oikawa was amiable, if cold. He didn’t attempt to get to know her as a person, and she afforded him the same privilege. He got his work done, projects were always turned in on time, and he put forth the effort. Study sessions and lab times were near silent. There wasn’t exactly anything wrong, but Haruhi already had terrible trouble with people, so the fact that the person she spent the most time with apparently couldn’t stand to be in her presence stung. Not like she found him more than tolerable--he was a pompous, egocentric, pretty boy, or at least that was the image he liked to project. He never met a girl he didn’t like; he never met a problem he couldn’t kid his way around. They’d attempted small talk a few times, but for some reason he made her feel like an idiot. 

But there was something there behind the curtain. She didn’t know exactly if it was _better_ , but she would see the occasional flashes of honesty. She’d see hints of a dorky smile, or the last fraying vestiges of control at the end of a bad day. Honestly, if she’d been inclined, she’d have liked to get to know that Oikawa. Even if he wasn’t better, at least he was honest.

One afternoon, they’d been sitting in the library, discussing their upcoming midterm project. He had his chin pillowed on his forearms, and he was watching her while she talked. His eyes were sharp, piercing, and all-seeing. It was… kind of creepy, if a bit intense. 

“So you’re better at the editing aspect than I am,” Haruhi said, tapping away on her keyboard and trying to avoid that gaze. “I’ll type up our rough draft from our compiled notes, and if you wouldn’t mind going over it, I can do all the edits. Fair?” 

“Your accent is strange.”

Haruhi paused, quirking her eyebrow at him; “Excuse me?”

“Your accent is strange,” he repeated. “I’ve never heard it before. Where are you from?”

She rolled her eyes--more small talk, then. She figured she’d humor him, otherwise he wouldn’t let it go; “Hokkaido.”

“Really!?” He straightened suddenly, upsetting their haphazard pile of notes. She thanked her lucky stars for his reflexes when he saved them from careening to the floor. “Wow, that’s so far away; it must be hard.”

She bit her lip, tapping her finger nervously on the table. His eyes flickered to her hands, but he didn’t say anything. She wouldn’t meet his eyes; “Yeah, it is.”

“I can imagine,” he replied, staring at a spot on the wall almost fondly. “I’m only a quick short trip away from my hometown, and it feels like I’m on a whole other planet..”

“Where are you from, Oikawa?” Haruhi tilted the lid of her laptop down slightly, leaning her cheek on her hand. 

“Miyagi,” he answered. “It’s small… not nearly as big as Tokyo. But it’s home.” 

She understood. She understood more than he could ever know. She missed home more than anything, despite Tokyo being her choice. “What do you miss most?” Haruhi asked, leaning forward ardently. He’d never been this open with her… 

“Honestly? It’s silly, but I miss my old school,” he answered. 

She snorted under her breath; “Like, your high school? That’s what you miss the most?” 

“Well, it wasn’t always perfect and rosy, but I had a routine,” he snapped, pouting petulantly. It was an utterly adorable face, and she couldn’t help the bright giggle, which drew an equally adorable blush out of him. “I mean, I think I’m lucky that Iwa-chan is here with me, but I miss my teammates. I just… I miss my school. That’s all. What about you, Haru-chan? What do you miss about Hokkaido?” 

She sighed, staring off into space; the windows were darkening, and the quiet of the library was almost oppressive. She leaned forward, putting her head on the desk; “I think I miss the quiet. Tokyo is so bright and noisy all the time. I’m just… I miss the quiet. I miss seeing the stars.”

“Do you like stargazing?” He seemed genuinely curious, something shimmering and bright in his eyes. 

“I love the stars,” she replied with a fond smile. “During the winter, there are these really secluded little spaces so far away from any city lights that, on a clear night, I felt like I could see right out to the edges of space. Hundreds and hundreds of stars, Oikawa. It...got me through a hard time. So yeah, I guess you could say I love stargazing.”

Oikawa smiled at her. It wasn’t his princely act, nor was it his mean spirited smirk, but it was something else entirely. Crooked and dorky and a little ugly, with a precious dimple in one of his rounded cheeks. She sucked in a sharp breath as he answered, “I like stargazing, too.”

She blinked owlishly at him, snapping to attention; “I like this side of you, Oikawa.”

It was his turn to stare incredulously; “What side?”

“I don’t know… this. I knew the pretty-boy thing was an act, but I didn’t know it was hiding something this...cute.” 

_Oh God, of all the days to lose my filter!_

She averted her eyes, pulling her hair in front of her face to hide her blushing cheeks. She felt like such an idiot, but the utterly stricken look on Oikawa’s face was pretty precious, if embarrassing. 

Right before midterms, she came into class to find a coffee cup sitting in her usual spot. Oikawa was staring off into space, as he usually did, but he kept stealing glances out of the corner of his eye at her. She canted her head and pointed to the cup; “What’s that?” 

“It’s that coffee you like,” he replied evenly, shrugging his shoulders. “That peppermint mocha, or whatever.”

She took a sip and gasped--it was more than just peppermint mocha coffee. It was a not-inexpensive latte from a somewhat out-of-the-way cafe near campus; “Oikawa, I appreciate the gesture, but… why?” 

“I figured it was your first birthday away from home,” he said. “You deserved something… nice.” 

She opened her mouth to reply, but it snapped closed again in surprised. It took four full heartbeats before she was able to answer without fear of squeaking; “Oikawa, I mentioned my birthday to you once.”

“Don’t be getting any funny ideas, Haru-chan,” he snapped, still not meeting her eyes. “I just remembered because you share a birthday with my nephew!” 

Haruhi grinned; “You have a nephew?” 

Oikawa’s whole demeanor softened as he whipped out his phone; “Yeah, he’s eight. Cutest kid ever, too. You want to see a picture?”

Haruhi nodded emphatically, peering over Oikawa’s shoulders at the literal dozens of pictures he’d taken of this kid. He regaled her with tales of his children’s league volleyball that he used to coach, and how Takeru was going to be ‘just like his Uncle Tooru, even if he didn’t know it yet.’ 

She decided in that moment--Oikawa Tooru wasn’t so bad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would once again like to thank everyone for leaving kudos and comments!! It means so much to me, and I am so thrilled you are enjoying yourselves! 
> 
> Also, another big thank you to JustBeGeorge, because without them, this fic would be considerably shittier.


	5. Chapter 5

After that first olive branch, Haruhi’s relationship with Oikawa had changed. They moved past antagonism and cool aloofness into something that could almost resemble friendship. Almost. She was still a bit wary around him. It still felt like he was hiding something from her, but at the very least he’d started to act friendly. Still, with Christmas right around the corner and her company’s annual charity performance of _The Nutcracker_ approaching, she didn’t have time to analyse every little thing her lab partner did. He was distracting enough, for one. 

Mainly, in that she no longer knew how to act around him. He’d always been a bit of a touchy-feely guy, from what she could see, but there was something loaded and weight about the soft, barely-there brushes of his fingertips across the tops of her hands. The way he would tuck her long hair behind her ear made her weak, and the way he would lean over her to check their work did something to her insides. It took her an embarrassingly long time for her to realize she had it _bad_ for him, and she hated it. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt deep in her heart that it would only hurt her to get involved with him. So she did what she did best--dodge and evade. She threw herself into her hectic schedule, burying herself in her work and her busy rehearsal program for the recital--she was a soloist, after all--to avoid him. 

But of course, it could never work, because he’d found her weakness. He always swung by the ballet studio after his own practice, when she was on her own, to “discuss their upcoming projects.” If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he was there to see her. The way his milk-chocolate eyes would watch her as she glided across the floor or stretched over the bar made chills run down her spine. The room was wall-to-wall mirrors, so there was no way to escape his gaze. Every time she turned her head, there he was, reflected back dozens of times, watching her. 

God, he was so beautiful. 

“You’re a lovely dancer,” he said suddenly. 

She felt a swell of pride at the praise and prayed that the back of her neck was not as red as it felt. She shot a sardonic smirk over her shoulder; “You’ve said that about a dozen times over the course of the weekend.”

“Well, it’s true,” he replied, rising from his seat in the corner. He approached the bar by the mirror, grabbing onto it and raising his arm like he’d seen her do many times. “I love ballet. I’ve actually always wanted to learn.”

“Why?” Haruhi canted her head at him, joining him at the bar. “You’ve always seemed pretty much married to volleyball, to me. Or maybe I missed something?” 

“Ooh, watching me so closely, Haru-chan? I’m flattered,” he cooed playfully, running his fingers up her side in a ticklish gesture. She squealed and slapped his hands away. He laughed at her, but she couldn’t even be mad. “Actually, I’ve always been intrigued by it. It’s so like… and yet _unlike_ volleyball, if that makes sense. Grace and flow and connection… they’re pillars of both of our chosen… well, hobbies, is a bad word for it, but you get what I’m saying, yeah?” 

Haruhi nodded, watching as he raised up on his toes, mimicking her warm-up movements. She snorted; “Well, you won’t get anywhere like that; your form is awful.”

“Then perhaps you could teach me,” he suggested. There was a flirtatious lilt to his voice, but he seemed totally sincere. 

“Don’t be stupid,” she retorted, averting her eyes and tapping her finger on the bar. His gaze dropped to where her hand gripped it just this side of too tight. “I’m not much of a teacher.”

“Haru-chan, you are literally going to school to study and teach ballet,” Oikawa deadpanned, quirking his eyebrow at her. “Don’t tell me it’s because you’re too dazzled by my charming good looks? Are you falling for me, Haru-chan?” 

“In your dreams, pretty boy.” She narrowed her eyes playfully, crossing her arms. “Alright, fine, but under two conditions. One, stop calling me Haru-chan--” 

“Nope. Deal-breaker,” he replied with a lazy smirk. 

“Then I won’t teach you,” she said, glaring up at him. Why did he have to be so _tall?_

“Are you really that bothered by it?” Oikawa asked, cocking his head at her; his gaze suddenly became scrutinizing, and she felt too exposed. Too raw. 

“Not...really,” she answered haltingly. 

“Then what’s the problem?” 

“Nothing! Fine, second condition is I want your form to be _perfect!_ If you do it wrong you can really hurt yourself! Also, don’t do the exercises right before big games or long practices! I don’t want you bitching about soreness!” 

“That’s three conditions, Haru-chan,” he teased, holding up three long fingers. 

“Well, you rejected the first one outright, so I had to improvise,” she riposted. “Now get into first position, buster!” 

She could tell the instant he over-extended, because he winced. She gently corrected him--beginners didn’t have to have a completely flat first position, after all--but she did notice the sharp intake of breath when she pushed his right leg straight.

“Oikawa, did you hurt your knee at practice today?” Haruhi asked, inspecting it a little closer. 

“No,” he answered shortly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” she retorted, pressing her thumbs into it. His leg jerked and his breath came in a ragged hiss. “Oikawa, it’s really swollen and tight. Don’t you stretch it?” 

“I said it’s fine, Haru-chan, though your concern is touching! I will--” 

“Leg up,” she commanded, tapping the bar. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. Right leg on the bar, as straight as you can,” she said, carefully supporting him as he followed her orders. She gently pressed on the back of his broad shoulders, pushing forward steadily. “Hands on the bar in front of you… straighten your left leg a bit… there we go. Head down. Don’t forget to breath, and don’t bounce! Just hold steady… Knee injuries are a serious concern for dancers--especially when we do pointe. There’s a lot of stuff I can teach you to help out with that.”

Oikawa let out an almost obscene moan; “Haru-chan, that’s amazing.” 

“It’s… pretty basic ballet, actually,” she answered, trying to control the blush inflaming her cheeks. “Alright, next form.” 

She taught him a series of stretches, exercises, and forms that, by the end, had restored most of the range of motion on his knee. She didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose to provoke her, or if he’d just never considered these types of exercises and they just felt _that good_ , but he wasn’t exactly quiet. Groans, sighs, moans and little gasps filled the small practice studio--the neighbors probably thought they were fucking against the mirror (and of course, that mental image stuck like no one’s business)--so by the time they were done, Haruhi was a nervous, twitching, blushing mess. Her finger tapped irritably on her knee while they cooled down. 

“So why do you care?” Oikawa asked suddenly. 

Haruhi almost choked on her water. They’d been quiet for so long, she’d sort of gotten into a zone. She hated it when she did that; “I’m sorry? About what?” 

“You just...you seemed so upset when you found out I’d hurt myself,” he elaborated. “And to be fair, I was being honest with you. It’s nothing new--it’s a chronic stress injury from school. I overworked myself a bit.”

“A bit? Oikawa, you had almost zero range of motion when you stepped up to the bar,” Haruhi reprimanded. “You… you have to take better care of yourself.” 

“Why do you care, though?” His grin became stretched and lazy, but there was something in his eyes… something almost desperate. There was a small part of him crying out to her for something… she couldn’t quite figure out what, though. “Was I right? Are you falling for me, my sweet Haru-chan? So cute!” 

She flushed to her hairline, averting her eyes. She shrugged--she supposed it was now or never. What did she have to lose? Oikawa was only going to be her lab partner for another three weeks before the final, and then she’d likely never see him again; “Would that be so awful?” 

That stopped Oikawa cold. His whole face turned a rather alarming shade of red; “What?” 

“I asked if it would be so awful? If I was falling for you, that is.” She shrugged again, drawing her knees up to her chest. She felt so stupid and vulnerable… she hated it. She liked to know where she stood with everyone, and she’d been in a weird limbo with Oikawa since midterms. 

Oikawa opened and closed his mouth like a beached fish, searching for the right words, before his gaze fell to her twitching hands; “Do… do I make you nervous?” 

“What?” 

He pointed at her hands; “You tap your index finger when you’re nervous.” 

She stared at her hands, balling them into tight fists; “I… I think so? In a good way, I think. I don’t know, Oikawa… I’m just so confused, you know?” 

“Why?” He canted his head at her, his expression almost looking hurt. Almost. 

“Because you confuse me,” she replied with another shrug. “I mean… I see you. But I want to know you, you know? I know your whole ‘untouchable pretty boy’ act is just that, but you never let me see enough. Hell, the way you joke about me falling for you… you make it seem like it would be the worst thing in the world. I like rules and structure, and you’re just… the opposite of all of that. So yeah, you make me nervous.” 

Then, he did something she never would have expected; he laid his hand over hers, squeezing so gently. His hands were so rough, his nails bitten short, but they were an intoxicating combination of strong and tender. She looked into his eyes again, and there it was--that look from earlier. It was the most honest thing she’d seen out of him, and it physically took her breath away. 

“For the record,” he said, tugging her hand until it was cradled in his palm. She had never noticed, but his hands were so much bigger than hers. They were actually quite beautiful. He traced the lines of her palm with just the fingertips of his other hand; the contact was so slight it was almost a tease. She started trembling--this man was going to kill her! Her breath came in a harsh, uneven gasp when he dropped his gaze shyly, watching their hands as he continued to unmake her with the barest of touches. “You never, ever have to be nervous around me… Haruhi.”

~~~

Haruhi couldn’t shake the image of Oikawa and Iwaizumi tangled together on her living room floor, and everything she saw was a reminder of it. She’d assured Oikawa that it wasn’t a big deal--they had talked about it, and it was just Iwaizumi…Iwaizumi had even tentatively agreed to the open relationship with them. But she’d never seen Oikawa like she’d seen him with Iwaizumi. It was like a part of him had been missing with her, and Iwaizumi completed it. She couldn’t shake the nagging doubt, no matter how ludicrous, that she was a superfluous add-on in her own relationship. She watched Oikawa move through the stretches and forms she’d taught him the very first year she’d ever known him, sighing with relief when his bad knee stretched taut and relaxed, better than before. She paused in her own movements, her fingers tapping nervously on the chair she was using for support in lieu of a bar. 

“What’s wrong, Haruhi?” Oikawa suddenly asked, shooting her a genial smile over his shoulder. 

“You could hear that, huh?” She giggled nervously, trying her best to stop her imagination running away from her. 

He stopped his stretching, pulling his leg off the back of the chair, and taking her fidgety hands in his. His thumbs skimmed over her knuckles, running soothing circles across the soft skin; “Haruhi. Talk to me.”

She drew her bottom lip through her teeth, refusing to make eye contact. She tried to focus on Oikawa’s soft, gentle stare, or his hands, or anything that would shake the image of him bent over her coffee table with Iwaizumi’s cock still buried inside of him. It wasn’t even that she had a big problem with it--quite the opposite, really. But what scared her the most--what hurt the most--was that she wasn’t needed anymore.

“You still love me, right Tooru?” 

Oikawa looked stricken--actually, genuinely hurt--by her words; “Of course, Haru-chan! Why would you ask me that?”

“It’s just…” She sighed, finally looking him in the eye. He released one of her hands to gently cradle her face, and she leaned into his touch like a spoiled cat. She needed his affection. She _needed_ his reassurance. “I saw you with Hajime this morning… and last night. I’ve never seen you like that before, Tooru. I’m just afraid that you don’t… want me anymore. That you don’t need me. I won’t make you choose between me and Hajime--that’s not fair--but… I’m so scared to lose you, Tooru. I love you.”

He let go of her hand, only to cup her other cheek. He pressed their foreheads together, his breath coming out shaky and uneven; “Were you that bothered by this morning? I’m so, so sorry about that, Haru-chan.”

“No, it’s not that,” Haruhi replied, letting her eyes slide closed and just… share the same air as him. If only for a minute. “I told you, I’m actually really OK with all this. Really. But I guess I just needed a little reassurance, that’s all.”

“Well then, let me make myself perfectly clear,” he said smoothly. She felt the softest of kisses against one eyelid, then the other, followed by a gentle kiss against her forehead. “I love you, Haruhi. No matter what happens, you will always be my best girl.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I love everything about you. You’re my rock, my world, my moon and stars, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“Tooru, stop,” she giggled between gentle pecks to her lips. “You’re laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?”

He laughed, low and husky, and it instantly changed the mood. Heat coursed through her body as his kisses became longer, deeper, and more insistent; “Then allow me to demonstrate.”

With a quick movement, she was in his arms. She giggled, squealing when he made a beeline for the bedroom and clinging to him for dear life. He laughed--high and bright--with her as they tumbled into their soft sheets. Instantly, he was over her, caging her with his sinewy arms. He was so beautiful, and his kisses felt like that first gasp of air after hold her breath for too long. They breathed life into her, and the gentle way his tongue lapped deep in her mouth teased all the places that made her squirm. It curled upwards, drawing little patterns along the roof of her mouth. He swallowed her little moans, gently prying her thighs apart as he worked his hands under her clothes. 

The skin on skin contact was so intense, she nearly cried. His fingers were so gentle, almost worshipping, as they brushed over her body in soothing patterns. He pushed her t-shirt over her head, looking down at her with reverence and affection so deep, it nearly stopped her heart. Without warning, his tongue was everywhere. All his favorite spots, and some that weren’t but enjoyed the new attention regardless, were soundly marked. The tiny whimpers he made as she struggled to get him out of his shirt nearly undid her. God, she loved him so, so much. 

She ran her hands over his chest, down his arms, back up and over his back, down to his hips. He shuddered under her touch, pressing his body flush with her’s. He was being slow and deliberate, pressing kisses to every inch of her, whispering sweet nothings against her skin. By the time he was by her feet, she was a shaking, quivering mess. 

“Tooru, please,” she whimpered, trying to draw him up the bed with her legs. “Tooru, I need you, please.”

“I need you too, Haruhi,” he whispered back. He kicked his pants off, tossing them to some unknown corner of the room. It was clear he was beyond caring, and frankly, so was she. He sank into her slowly, never once breaking eye contact. She watched his pupils dilate as he was surrounded by her wet heat. She pulsed around him, trying to draw him in further. “God help me, you feel so good.” 

“T-tooru,” she gasped, unable to form coherent thoughts. He held her close, rolling against her gently. 

It was like a practiced dance between the two of them; they knew how to make each other feel good. Despite the familiarity--the intimacy--she still felt massive butterflies explode in her core. He gave her that look of longing and adoration, and he kissed her like a parched man with his first sip of water, and she was gone. The gentle way he touched her, the easy way he brought her pleasure, the reverent way he said her name over and over… They were in love. 

Nothing could shake that. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, there's some Daddy!Iwa smut here. You've been warned.

Despite all the strife and turmoil of the previous few days, moving Iwaizumi into Oikawa and Haruhi’s apartment was surprisingly easy. He didn’t have a lot of stuff, and he kept it all relatively neat, so they were able to fit most of it into Haruhi’s little car in a single trip. They managed to get all of his stuff into the second bedroom with only mild embarrassment. When Haruhi was organizing boxes, she guffawed with laughter when she popped opened his box of trainers. 

“Honestly, Hajime, how many pairs of shoes do you need?” 

He reddened, yanking the box away from her line of sight; “Please! How many pairs of pink toe shoes do you own?” 

She quirked an incredulous brow at him; “Because I go through them so quickly. A good pair of toe shoes, on my schedule, lasts maybe three months. Tops. Half of those look like they’ve never been worn.”

“Mind your own business!” Iwaizumi snapped, crossing his arms petulantly. He was hyper aware of the fact his face was completely red, all the way to his hairline. 

She just kept laughing; “It’s alright, my darling, I kid. Honestly, it can’t possibly be worse than Tooru’s collection of vintage _X-Files_ t-shirts. I swear, that boy…” 

Iwaizumi pointedly did _not_ stare at the little box with his _Godzilla_ collection. Thankfully, Haruhi either didn’t notice, or was kind enough not to point it out, and left him to get settled. He unpacked in relative silence, the only noise being the soft sounds of Oikawa and Haruhi just occupying the same space as him. It wasn’t new; he and Oikawa had roomed together their first year of school, and it was disturbingly easy to settle into a rhythm. He’d almost forgotten all the awkwardness of Haruhi catching him and Oikawa in the act… 

But a new problem was cropping up. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was _her_ , spread out beneath him like a feast, all long creamy limbs and shiny dark hair. He wanted to press her into the nearest soft surface and rut into her like a wild fucking animal; he wanted her to scream and cry and beg for him. He wanted her voice to be the one high-pitched and breathy with need as she called his name… It was different than his need to be with Oikawa. It was something he couldn’t quite pin down… he chalked it up to sexual tension and left it at that. It was easy to avoid being alone with her. Oikawa practically followed her around like a lost duckling, and the three of them were so busy, they were barely in the apartment.

Until that weekend when it all went to shit. 

Oikawa had a Saturday class, followed by a test and an appointment with his physical therapist, so he had to leave early and he wouldn’t be back until late. Haruhi was fussing--he was wearing his brace and favoring his left leg pretty heavily--but he kept waving her off, complaining he was going to be late. Iwaizumi stared after them fondly as they bickered like an old married couple, argueing about dinner and his rest breaks and his practices and she should really drive him to his class if his knee was bugging him that badly. He resisted the urge to laugh--she would not appreciate it at all. 

Once Oikawa was gone, though, it was just the two of them. Iwaizumi was able to occupy himself most of the day with his homework and some light housework, but it wasn’t a large apartment. The common areas were the most comfortable places to be, and eventually he couldn’t avoid her anymore. She was fixing lunch, making small talk, while he tried to focus on the dishes. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, despite trying his level best to avoid eye contact. The awkward silence was tangible, and he hadn’t noticed she’d gone silent until he felt her hand on his shoulder. 

“So, Hajime, let’s talk sex,” she said bluntly, hopping up onto the counter next to him. “Are you pro or con; my sources and experience point to pro.”

Iwaizumi didn’t realize it was possible to choke on air, but he managed anyway; “Excuse me? Haruhi--”

“Oh, so you can hear me,” she interjected. “For a second, I was afraid I’d gone ‘Ghost of Christmas Past’ on you.”

He bit his lip, suddenly feeling like he wanted to sink into the floor. She couldn’t read his mind, so looking at it from her perspective, he’d had sex with her, butted his way into her relationship, and promptly started ignoring her; “Sorry, Haruhi. I didn’t--”

“This is about the coffee table incident,” she said, kicking her legs against the cabinets. He tried not to watch the gentle play of muscle under her beautiful skin, or the way her teeth sank into her lower lip, or the gentle fall of her ponytail over her shoulder. He imagined that dark hair wrapped around his fist and had to avert his eyes again. “Because I told you, and I told Tooru, I’m not mad. It’s not a big deal.”

“It… it isn’t weird?” He chanced a glance at her face and was caught off guard by her crooked, awkward smile. 

“Well, I’m a little upset I didn’t get to join in on the fun,” she replied, her legs still swinging erratically. He put a hand on her knee to still them, and he almost groaned… she was so soft. “But I understand, though. If you just want to have sex with Tooru and not me, I understand. There’s no pressure.”

“It’s not that,” Iwaizumi sighed, rubbing soothing circles on her thigh with his thumb. He gave her body a sweep with his eyes, and he had to swallow _hard_. He tried not to think of the absolutely shameful things he wanted to do to her; he struggled to banish the image of her bound before him, on her knees, marked and wrecked and sobbing…

“Honestly, Hajime, Tooru and I have had a long talk about the other day, and if you’re cool, I’m cool. So you can stop being so afraid of me,” she said. She turned a playful smirk on him that made something in his core thrum with anticipation. “Although I never would have pegged you as the clothed sex type.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously; “I’m not, usually. That was all… pretty spontaneous.”

“Ah. So you’re more of a boudoir type? Fluffy pillows, roses and candles?”

“Not necessarily,” he responded, although he knew he wouldn’t say no to that prospect. The mental image of her bathed in candlelight was...intoxicating.

“Then what are your kinks, Hajime?” She asked him so bluntly, like she was asking if he wanted beef or fish for dinner.

He deflected, “You assume I have kinks.”

She giggled brightly, holding up her hand; “Anyone who does this to someone has to have kinks.”

He balked, suddenly feeling ice cold inside. Identical bruises, each the same exact width of his belt, were starting to fade to green on her wrists; “Oh, fuck! Oh, God, Haruhi I am _so_ sorry!” 

“Hajime,” she assured, folding her hands demurely in her lap. “I _like_ them. I like being manhandled a little. I like a little side of pain with my pleasure; it gets my engine going. If I didn’t like it, I’d have stopped or safe-worded.”

“We didn’t establish safe words!” Iwaizumi felt like such an idiot. The past week--and the two amazing sexual encounters he’d had over the course of it--were suddenly thrown into a stark light. He’d made some...poor decisions. 

“This is true,” she said. “But I assume if I shouted ‘daikon’ out in the middle of sex, you’d have at least stopped to make sure I wasn’t having a stroke. Unless you’re into that sort of thing, in which case I don’t think we can be friends.”

He blinked owlishly at her before bursting into hysterical laughter. She was quick to follow, their breathless giggles filling the small kitchen. It felt like something had given, and where once there had been tension pulling his chest tight, now there was just relief. 

“Alright, then, one of my kinks,” he sighed, leaning over the counter. He paused for a moment, considering whether or not he trusted her with it… he’d never asked anyone. _Anyone_. “God, it’s so embarrassing.”

“Hajime, you can tell me,” she assured, running her knuckle along the shell of his ear. He shuddered, leaning into her touch. “I promise, it’ll be alright.”

“Well, alright, then,” he sighed, heaving out a huge breath. “I’ve… I’ve always wanted a girl to call me ‘daddy.’”

There was a heavy, tangible pause where he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears except her quietly uttered, “What?”

“It’s so gross, and weird, but fuck, I’ve just… always been _so_ turned on by the idea of a girl trusting me like that,” he admitted, burying his face in his hands. He decided to double down--whether or not she accepted it or shamed him right out of her house was already up in the air. “Just… a Princess who’ll trust her Daddy to take care of her. Fuck, that’s weird, right? It’s weird.”

“No,” she replied, her voice breathy and high. He looked at her out the corner of his eyes, and he was amazed by what he saw. She was rubbing her thighs together, desperate for friction, and her whole face turned an alluring shade of pink. “That’s actually… really fucking hot, Hajime.”

“Is it?” He felt himself slowly gaining confidence as her breathing hitched in her chest and her hands fisted uselessly against the countertop. He walked his fingers up her thighs, gripping her hips harshly.

“Yes,” she breathed, her thighs squeezing together tighter. “Can… can I call you ‘Daddy?’”

He drew in a sharp breath, his hands moving in broader, more confident circles on her skin. He felt his heart jump into his throat--it really was now or never; “I don’t know, can you…Princess?”

She hissed, her eyes slipping closed as if she was overwhelmed by something; “Fuck. Yes… daddy.”

He shuddered, all the blood in his body immediately dropping to his cock. He’d already been turned on, but now he was painfully hard; “Dirty girl.” 

“I am,” she said, spreading her thighs impossibly slowly. God, he could smell how wet she was. “I’m such a dirty girl, daddy.” 

“Looks like I need to teach my Princess a lesson,” he groaned, running his hand up the inside of her thigh. He raised his eyes to her’s, and he was almost overwhelmed by the look of pure lust and want there. “Say ‘red,’ and it all stops. Clear?”

“Yes,” she answered breathily. 

“Yes…what?” He needed to hear it again. He needed it like he needed oxygen. “Say it, Princess.”

“Yes, daddy, I understand,” she moaned. Her thighs twitched, like she wanted to bring them together, but his strong hands held her open. A wet spot had appeared on her cotton shorts, and _fuck_ he wanted to taste her so badly. He’d fantasized--literally dreamed--of the bitter, salty hint of her arousal on Oikawa’s tongue, but it wasn’t the same. 

“Good girl,” he growled. “Bend over the counter, Princess. Pull your shorts down.”

She complied quickly, wriggling her shorts over her hips and kicking them to some unknown corner of the kitchen. She bent over the counter, bracing her torso with her hands and spreading her legs. 

“So dirty,” he moaned. Her waxed-bare folds visibly glistened at him, and the anticipation was making her impossibly wet. He reached into the drawer by the stove, making a noise of triumph when he found a wooden spoon. He ran it over the soft, plush of her ass, marvelling in the soft, smooth unmarred skin. He would have to change that. “You’re already so wet for me, Princess. I haven’t even touched you.”

“I’ve been thinking about you, daddy,” she whimpered, shooting a coquettish, defiant look over her shoulder. Something about the bratty tilt to her lips made something primal and dark surge through his core, making his cock bob in his pants. “I’ve been thinking about your cock since you fucked me that first time… I want it.”

“You think you get to make demands?” He snarled viciously, grabbing her hands and pressing them into the small of her back. He whipped his belt off with minimal fumbling, quickly wrapping it tightly around her crossed wrists. He knew the pose was more for safety than anything--the last thing he wanted was to accidentally hit her hands--but something about manhandling her into position while she submissively cried out to him made heat surge through his limbs like liquid fire. He needed her. He needed _this_. “Just remember, Princess, you don’t get to come until daddy says you can.”

“Oh, god, daddy,” she whimpered. “Please daddy-AH!” 

The wooden spoon came down on her ass in a satisfying _smack_. He rubbed the offended spot with his fingers; the skin was warm and pleasantly pink, and she was shaking in the very best way. He breathed hard through his nose, trying to control himself, but he couldn’t. Something about her tiny, mewling cries of ‘daddy, please’ snapped whatever tenuous thread he had on his self-control. He reared back his arm, bringing the spoon down on a fresh patch of skin. 

He set a punishing pace, bringing the spoon down on her ass over and over again, not giving her a chance to breathe or adjust. She wriggled and writhed against him, sobbing and crying with pleasure as he held her in place. Each impact, each gorgeous sound of the wood hitting her flesh, sent a jolt straight to his cock. He watched her carefully, waiting for the moment when it would be just too much, then pushing her a little further. He set the spoon to the side, his hands soothing over her heated skin. It was red after his ministrations, and between those perfect, abused globes, her cunt was practically drooling onto the floor. 

“You’re so wet, Princess,” he groaned, falling to his knees behind her. Having that beautiful pussy staring him in the face, the smell overwhelming him… it was intoxicating. “Who makes you this wet?”

“You, daddy,” she whimpered. Her legs were shaking with the effort of keeping herself upright. 

“Would you like daddy to taste you?” He sank his thumbs into her, spreading her wide. Her cunt flexed over his fingers, snapping another thread of his control. 

“Please, daddy,” she replied. “Please, please daddy please I want your mouth! Daddy, please!” 

“I love when you beg like that, Princess,” he sighed, pressing his face between her legs.

Oh God, she tasted even better than she smelled. He groaned deeply, sinking his tongue into her. She was overwhelming; more than that, she was _soaked_. Her arousal coated his lips and chin, dripping down his neck. He lived for it; he needed more. He could feel it in the way her cunt flexed and twitched around his tongue that she wasn’t going to last. When his tongue slipped to the front to nudge at her clit, she keened a high-pitched, animalistic whine. If she didn’t safe-word soon, he would have to finish it. Besides, he couldn’t wait anymore. 

“Do you want daddy to fuck you?” Iwaizumi asked against her cunt. 

“Please, daddy,” she begged. 

“Please, what?” He smirked almost cruelly. He wouldn’t be able to last at this rate… “You have to be specific with me, Princess.”

“Please, daddy,” she repeated. “Please, fuck me! Fuck me until I can’t stand! I want daddy’s cock to wreck me, please!” 

He grinned, heaving himself to his feet, shedding his jeans in the process. His cock sprang free, dark red and weeping with his arousal. He needed her. He whipped his shirt off over his head, lining himself up with her entrance. When he rubbed the swollen, sensitive head across her slit, lightning ran up his spine. He was having trouble waiting. 

“Remember, Princess, you’re not allowed to come until daddy says,” he growled. 

“Yes, daddy,” she responded, wriggling against him. “Please, please wreck me, daddy. I need it.”

He couldn’t wait anymore. With a single roll of his hips, he hilted her easily. He moaned _loudly_ at the sudden sensation. Her cunt rippled along his cock, sucking at him, silently begging for more; “God, Princess, you’re so tight. And wet. I just slid into you like it was nothing. Such a good girl for daddy.”

“Please, daddy, please fuck me,” she whimpered, bouncing gently against him in a desperate bid for friction. 

If he’d been able to hold on and maintain control, he might have pulled out just to tease her--to punish her. God, he wanted to wreck her. It would be so easy to pull out and leave her gaping and dripping, begging for him. But every fiber of his being protested that notion as he began to move. He didn’t give her time to adjust--he started pounding at a brutal pace, angling his hips so she slammed into her g-spot over and over again. She was sobbing and swearing, her face practically pressed into the counter. 

“Don’t muffle your pretty moans, Princess,” he snarled. He wrapped her ponytail around his fist and _pulled_ , yanking her into a sinuous, beautiful, almost painful arch. He was sure the neighbors were convinced he was murdering her, judging by the loud cry she gave, but he didn’t care. “Daddy wants to hear you.”

“I can’t,” she sobbed. “I can’t, daddy. I can’t hold it. I have to come, daddy, please!”

His free hand smacked on her bruised ass once before sliding around her hip, spreading her lips wide; “Beg me.”

“Please, daddy! Please, let me come! I need to come, daddy, please! I’ll do anything!” 

He couldn’t hold it anymore; his hip stuttered and his whole body shook with the effort of staving off his own orgasm. His fingers slipped between her thighs to pinch and manhandle her clit; “Come for daddy.”

She went almost silent. Her breath caught in her chest, her mouth popped open in a silent scream, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She was spurting and clenching around him, her thighs twitching with the effort of keeping herself upright. Her hands strained at the belt keeping her in place. Iwaizumi was not far behind her; he saw stars as he came explosively inside of her. 

She collapsed bonelessly against the counter, and only his strong arms kept her from crumpling to the floor. Gently--so gently--he lowered them to their knees. He undid the belt around her hands and carefully pulled out of her with a hiss, groaning when he saw his come leak out of her lewdly. She went limp in his arms, and she was shaking _hard_. 

He held her close, holding her chin in his fingers; “You did so good. So good, Haruhi.”

“Hajime,” she whimpered. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Her eyes were still glassy and distant. 

“What do you need?” Iwaizumi asked gently, stroking her hair and pressing kisses to every part he could reach--her cheek, her lips, her nose, her forehead… she leaned into the kiss on her temple with a contented sigh. 

“I don’t...I don’t know,” she gasped. “I need you, Hajime.” 

“Alright, hold on,” he murmured. He fetched a bottle of water from the fridge, holding it to her lips until she got a few sips. He didn’t let her go--not for an instant. “How about a warm bath, hm?” 

She hummed in contentment, leaning against his shoulder. She was still shaking, although it had subsided a bit. He scooped her into his arms, carrying her into the bathroom. He lived for aftercare--he loved to take her apart, but putting her back together again fulfilled him in ways he couldn’t have imagined. Something impossibly sweet pulled tight behind his chest as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, seeking affection. 

As he lowered himself into the bath, settling her into the space between his legs and against his chest, as he held her and took care of her, he realized he’d been wrong. It was never just about sex, or tension. There was no way he could separate his feelings. He loved them--both of them. He loved them with all his heart, and even if the arrangement they had was shaky and temporary at best, he’d never been more fulfilled in his life. 

He wrapped his arms tight around Haruhi, cherishing the moment, because one day, he’d have to let her go. And he didn’t know what he’d do then.


	7. Chapter 7

_“HAJIME!”_

Iwaizumi flung himself from the sofa, scrambling back towards the bathroom. Judging by the shrill cadence of the screams, he assumed Haruhi had to be dying, or worse. He slammed the door open, ready to fight whatever hellish beast was attacking his housemates, and paused. 

Haruhi was perched precariously on the toilet, a towel haphazardly wrapped around her. Her hair was still slick with conditioner, and she was still dripping. Oikawa was clear on the other side of the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth and he was brandishing a hairbrush in an iron grip like a weapon. His eyes were wide with panic and fear. 

“What is it?” Iwaizumi exclaimed. “What happened?”

“Hajime,” Haruhi whimpered. “In the tub. Get it, please! It’s gross!”

Iwaizumi peered into the bathtub, and sure enough a little spider about the size of his thumbnail was hanging out on the side, out of the path of the spray. He quirked his brow, glaring at them; “Seriously, you two?”

“It’s a jumper, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa exclaimed, gesticulating wildly with his hairbrush. 

“Yeah, imagine shaving your legs and having _that_ friendly little morning surprise!” Haruhi added. “We’re aware it’s pathetic, just please kill it, Hajime! Please!”

He chuckled, rolling his eyes as he angled the shower head to catch the spider in the spray, effectively rinsing it down the drain; “There. The grand beast has fallen.”

“Thanks, Hajime!” Haruhi gingerly stepped back into the shower, dropping her towel onto the back of the toilet. He caught an alluring stripe of naked skin as she winked coquettishly over her shoulder. “You’re our hero.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, letting himself out of the bathroom, with Oikawa hot on his heels. Iwaizumi jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow, his face pulled into a teasing smirk; “Some big man you were. Spiders quiver in fear at your hairbrush.”

“I had it under control!” Oikawa protested, finishing brushing his teeth in the kitchen sink. “Then it jumped at me!” 

“Ah,” Iwaizumi sighed with a triumphant grin. “As we all know, they are your one weakness--the jumping ones.”

“You’re so mean, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined, wiping toothpaste off of his mouth. He dripped some of the white foam onto his threadbare t-shirt. 

“Well, it’s a good thing you have me around, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi said, ruffling Oikawa’s hair. “Otherwise, you might have had to move and burn the house down.”

Iwaizumi fully expected his classic, whiny response, calling him ‘mean’ and ‘rude’ and ‘brash,’ but he didn’t. Instead, Oikawa smiled softly, almost fondly, up at him; “You called me ‘Shittykawa.’”

“Yeah, I always do,” Iwaizumi retorted, crossing his arms. He noticed Oikawa ogling them and couldn’t resist a subtle flex. 

“Not lately,” Oikawa countered. “Ever since you moved in, you’ve been too polite.”

Iwaizumi balked--looking back, he _had_ been a bit aloof lately. Distant, even. He hadn’t even realized; “I’m sorry. I figured that maybe--”

“That maybe, if you were polite enough, it would make up for the fact that we’re all living in sin?” OIkawa quirked an incredulous eyebrow. “Iwa-chan, we had sex. It’s not a big deal; we’ve all discussed it, we are consenting adults, and we want you here. We never wanted things to change just because we’re having some fun.”

Iwaizumi didn’t know how to respond, and thankfully, he didn’t have to. Oikawa gently-- _so_ gently--buried his hand into the hair on the back of Iwaizumi’s neck, letting the other hand slide up to curve around his jaw. The kiss he gave was soft, sweet, and reassuring; it breathed life back into him, set him straight, and made his heart beat a little more regularly. When Oikawa pulled away, he rested his forehead against Iwaizumi’s, chuckling under his breath. 

“I’ve been weird lately,” Iwaizumi said, leaning into Oikawa’s touch. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa responded easily, punching him gently in the shoulder. 

They managed to get breakfast on the table without setting the place on fire (thanks in large part to Iwaizumi) by the time Haruhi emerged from the shower. Her dark hair was wrapped in a towel, and she was pleasantly flushed. She made a beeline for the coffee maker, leaning on the counter and staring at the boys. 

“So what are your big plans for the day,” she asked them. 

“Not much,” Oikawa answered. “I was thinking of doing some individual practice today, but other than that I have the day.”

“Same,” Iwaizumi said around a mouthful of egg. “I have a paper to edit, but that won’t take me long. Why do you ask?” 

Haruhi shrugged shyly, averting her eyes; “I just… had some errands I needed to get done today, and I was wondering if you boys wanted to keep me company.”

Iwaizumi tilted his head at her, curious as to why she was being so reticent about it, but Oikawa came swooping to the rescue; “Of course, Haru-chan. We wouldn’t say no to spending our day off with you, right Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi shrugged; “I guess so. What did you have in mind?”

“Basic stuff,” she replied. “Groceries, laundry, and the like. Especially laundry; I love you boys, but your volleyball clothes are getting fucking rank.”

“Aww, mean Haru-chan!” Oikawa whined playfully, nudging his head against her shoulder in a naked plea for affection. She giggled, indulging him by carding her fingers through his hair. 

Iwaizumi felt frozen; he wasn’t sure if it had been as meaningful to her as it was to him, given that her whole demeanor was teasing and playful, but it still made his heart seize in his chest. _‘I love you boys…_ ’ He didn’t know if she’d meant it the way he’d taken it, but he’d taken it to mean more than he ever would have thought. It repeated over and over like a mantra in his head, and every time it pulled at some invisible string somewhere behind his belly button, summoning bright, feathery thoughts he never knew he’d have to deal with. 

_You are loved. You are loved._

He was put off by this new development in more ways that one. This was supposed to be a just sex thing. This wasn’t supposed to be about feelings or love; had he been too obvious? Were they starting to catch on? He hoped not. He loved Haruhi, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized he loved Oikawa too. They were both _so precious_ to him, but he knew in his heart of hearts that eventually, he would no longer be welcome in the relationship. He’d known them both long enough to know that Oikawa and Haruhi… they were endgame. They were in it for the long haul; they supported each other’s dreams and were willing to carry each other through the good times and the bad. He would eventually be phased out; if he wasn’t, then either Oikawa or Haruhi would be in his stead, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that happened. 

Still, it was nice to dream, and getting caught up in the domesticity of spending an hour or two in the coin laundry was almost too easy. Oikawa was in the process of switching their last load into the dryer while Iwaizumi and Haruhi methodically folded clothes into separate piles. Somehow, all of Haruhi’s practice leotards had ended up in his pile, and there was something intimate about seeing his favorite t-shirts in a neatly folded stack in front of her. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he noticed Haruhi was bouncing on the balls of her feet. No, not bouncing… 

“What are you doing?” Iwaizumi finally asked. 

“Oh, this?” She indicated her feet and legs. “ _Pliés_ and _relevés_.” She demonstrated with a minute bend of her knee before rising to her tiptoes. “Just an easy exercise to do while I’m idle.”

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Haruhi did that a lot. When she was idle, she was doing small exercises; when she was moving around the apartment, she would sometimes move her feet in weird ways that, looking at them carefully, were dance steps. Oikawa was similar in a lot of ways. Part of him loved it about the both of them, how devoted they were to their own crafts. Another part was thankful to be a part of the relationship, if only because he could make sure they ate and slept once in a blue moon. 

After they finished their laundry, they were going to head back to the apartment to drop off clothes and hit the supermarket, but Oikawa got distracted by something. He handed off the laundry bags, promising to catch up with them as soon as possible, while Iwaizumi and Haruhi finished the walk to the apartment. 

“What do you want for dinner tonight, Hajime?” 

“Hmm? Oh, anything’s fine,” Iwaizumi answered. “Whatever you’d planned on making is good enough for me.”

“I didn’t have anything planned,” she retorted with a giggle, letting them into the apartment. “That’s why I’m asking. What’s your favorite thing?”

“Why do you want to make my favorite thing?” He took the laundry bags from her, slinging them over his shoulder. He tried not to notice that she was ogling him. 

“Well, you killed the spider today,” she explained with a shrug, as if that was any sort of answer. 

“Alright? Care to elaborate?” He started to unpack laundry onto the table while Haruhi fluttered around the kitchen, making a list. 

“Remind me to swing by the drug store on our way home. Tooru’s out of hot wraps for his knee,” she mumbled, making a note on her list. “It’s simple, Hajime. You live here, and you’ve been acting like a houseguest.” 

“Oikawa talked about it with me this morning,” he countered.

“I know he did,” she said. “That doesn’t change the fact that I want to make you your favorite thing for dinner, and unless you like level 8,000 spicy curry over shredded cabbage, it won’t be a hassle, I promise. I want you to feel welcome here. I want you to feel _at home_ here! I feel… I don’t know, I feel awful that you feel so awkward.”

That he wasn’t expecting; “Why do you feel awful, Haruhi?” 

“Because this was all my idea,” she explained. “I saw how… Tooru… I mean, I made the suggestion. And I just--”

“Oikawa made the suggestion,” Iwaizumi countered. “It was a last minute thing because of my dorm.”

“But I’d expressed interest,” Haruhi whimpered, hiding her eyes behind her hair. “I was the one who suggested the threesome with you, Hajime. I was the one who wanted you in the first place. I…I just want you to feel like you belong. We want you here, Hajime.”

A swell of affection filled his chest to bursting, like an overinflated balloon. He grabbed onto her arm and drew her into a fierce embrace. He could tell by the tilt of her mouth that she was lying about something, but he didn’t care. He just needed her to stop making that face. 

“I’m happy to be here,” he assured. “I promise.”

~~~

Oikawa returned to the apartment a little more than an hour after they’d separated, clutching his purchases in one hand, fishing for his keys in another. He’d certainly gotten some _looks_ \--honestly, he felt like his purchases could have been part of that ‘Horrify the Cashier with three items or less’ meme, but that was neither here nor there--but it had been worth it. Or rather, it would be worth it, once his plan was put into motion. His train of thought, however, was interrupted when he came to his apartment door. 

_Music? **Rock** music? _

Haruhi often had music going, but it was usually a piece from the latest ballet she was a part of, not upbeat circa-2004 pop-rock. Curious, he poked his head into the kitchen, and he felt his heart melt at the sight. Haruhi’s phone was blasting the music, but he knew it was one of Iwaizumi’s favorites from their days of shared practice playlists. Whatever they’d been working on was obviously long-abandoned, and they were bounding in happy circles around the kitchen. Their hands were clasped together, and they were singing at the top of their lungs like a couple of love-sick dweebs. Some inexplicable twinge of fondness pulled at Oikawa’s heartstrings, and he knew he had it, and he had it _bad_. He was so miserably in love with those two dorks, and he realized too late that there was nothing he could do about it. He wanted to come home to this sight every day for the rest of his life, no matter what happened. 

“I see you two are having fun,” he remarked, setting his purchases on the counter. 

“Tooru!” Haruhi squealed, tossing herself into Oikawa’s arms. With a woof of exertion, he hitched her up so she could wrap her arms around his waist. She snuggled into his embrace, making silly coos under her breath. “Tooru! Iwa-chan and I bought _beer_.”

Oh dear. She was drunk if she was using the infantilization of Iwaizumi’s name; “Oh? And why did you two do that?” 

“We’re _celebrating!_ ” Haruhi exclaimed, tossing her hands into the air with exuberance. “Iwa-chan is our hero, and this is a hero party!” 

“How many did you have, Haru-chan?” Oikawa asked, trying to set her on the counter, but she clung like an overly-affectionate backpack. 

“Six,” Iwaizumi answered, shaking his head in disbelief. His face was pleasantly flushed, and his smile was on the mischievous side. “And all I’ve seen her consume today was a cup of coffee, so she’s… a bit on the tipsy side.”

“Goodness, Haru-chan, you are going to regret that in the morning,” Oikawa laughed. “What do you two lushes plan on feeding me, hm?” 

“Hayashi rice!” Haruhi exclaimed, making Oikawa wince. “I wanted to make Iwaizumi’s _favorite!_ ” 

“Not in my ear, love, please,” he whimpered, patting her hair. He turned his gaze to Iwaizumi. “Isn’t your favorite agedashi tofu?”

“It is, but I figured deep-frying in her state was probably less than ideal,” Iwaizumi chuckled. “Does she always get this rowdy?” 

“I asked her about that once,” Oikawa said with a shrug. “The only answer she had for me was ‘ballerinas know how to party.’ To this day, I don’t know what that means--Haru-chan if you do not remove your fingernails from my neck this instant, I am dropping you on the floor, do not test me.”

“Aww, mean Tooru,” she grumbled. “Tooru, I’m hungry.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you have Iwa-chan here to feed us, then,” Oikawa laughed, hoisting her a little higher. 

“Is she going to be alright?” Iwaizumi asked, killing the heat on the stove. 

“She’ll be fine,” Oikawa replied, rubbing a soothing circle against her back. “Get some food in her and set her up in front of a movie and she’ll be out like a light within an hour. She’ll be miserable come morning, but that’s her own fault.” 

“She really can’t hold her liquor, can she?” 

“No, she can’t,” Oikawa laughed fondly. 

“What’s in the bags?” Iwaizumi asked, indicating Oikawa’s purchases and packages on the counter with a jut of his chin. 

“Hm? Oh, those are a surprise,” Oikawa responded with a wink. “Feed me dinner, then we’ll talk.” 

It was a quiet night of familiar, home-cooked favorites and the Netflix queue. Haruhi had some sort of cooking competition show lined up, and it made decent background noise. Sure enough, within twenty minutes, Haruhi was fast asleep, her head cradled in Iwaizumi’s lap. Ever the caregiver, Iwaizumi started working at her French braid, pulling the strands apart and running his fingers through her long hair, massaging over her scalp. Haruhi hummed in contentment while Iwaizumi continued his soothing strokes. Oikawa started by patting her hip and thigh, but he noticed Iwaizumi’s hair was a bit… unruly. He gently pushed a strand behind his ear, feeling his heartbeat skip when he watched his breath catch. Those beautiful, steely eyes turned on him, and they were _dark_ with...something. Oikawa wasn’t sure. 

“You remember the first time you watched a movie with Haru-chan?” Oikawa asked fondly, gazing down at her. 

“I try not to,” Iwaizumi responded, his face flaming bright red with remembered embarrassment. “It was not one of my finer moments.” 

“She told me all about it, and I thought it was sweet,” Oikawa countered quietly. Iwaizumi gave a noncommittal grunt, turning his attention back to the TV. He was looking at it, but he wasn’t watching it. He was tense about something. “Iwa-chan, I was just thinking something…”

“Hm?” 

“I was thinking that maybe, the three of us? We should go on a date.” 


	8. Chapter 8

Their first run at finals in University was probably one of the hardest testing periods Iwaizumi could remember. Not only was he unused to the coursework, but Oikawa had been having trouble adjusting to the new environment. It wasn’t overt if one didn’t know him, but Iwaizumi recognized the way he would overwork himself when he got stressed, and it was starting to stress out Iwaizumi too. On top of that, Oikawa had been obsessing over his new lab partner, and not in the way he had at the beginning of the year when he’d assumed she hated him. It was so _painfully_ obvious that Oikawa was head-over-heels for her, and apparently she’d even confessed that she had a crush. To Iwaizumi, he didn’t see the problem, and figured it was only a matter of time. Oikawa had tried to explain the many, minute reasons he _absolutely could not_ date this girl, but Iwaizumi thought he was being ridiculous. 

About a week before testing began, Oikawa and Iwaizumi had carved out an evening to really, honest-to-God hit the books. They planned on passing their finals no matter what, even if it came down to actually hitting each other with their text books. Iwaizumi was just getting his notes out for his Statistics class when Oikawa decided to drop a bomb. 

“Oh, Iwa-chan,” he said affably, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “Haru-chan is coming to join us tonight!” 

“Haru-chan?” Iwaizumi cocked his head. “Oh, your lab partner? It would have been nice to know.” 

“Trust me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa retorted with a smirk. “You’re going to love her.”

“Don’t _you_ love her?” Iwaizumi asked dryly, returning his attention to his Statistics notes. 

“Of course not! She’s just my lab partner,” Oikawa protested. 

“Mm-hm,” Iwaizumi replied skeptically. “I’m sure. So it matters that your lab partner’s eyes remind you of a stormcloud?”

“I never said that!” He had to laugh; he’d never seen Oikawa look so flustered… or for that matter, so _caught_. 

“You did,” Iwaizumi countered. “You know you did, so don’t even try to deny it.”

“Well, you can’t tell her!” Oikawa begged. 

“This is childish,” Iwaizumi growled with a roll of his eyes. He slammed his notebook closed, resigned to not getting work done until Haruhi got there. “She already told you she likes you, yes?” 

“In so many words,” Oikawa murmured. His face was pulled down in a petulant pout. “She didn’t say it _exactly_ \--”

“Well, she came pretty damned close enough,” Iwaizumi said, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, I’ll be glad once this is all over so you don’t have a class with her anymore.”

“I didn’t even think of that!” 

“You know, for someone who’s actually infuriatingly observant, you are one of the densest human beings I have ever met,” Iwaizumi laughed. Their antics were interrupted when someone knocked on the door. Oikawa stiffened. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Go answer it.” 

Honestly, Iwaizumi couldn’t figure out what all the fuss was about. She was pretty, but not in a devastatingly-beautiful sort of way. She treated Oikawa gently, but not too gently, if the smack upside his head when he said something stupid was to be believed. She was… well, she was ordinary. Headstrong and fiercely logical, sure, but overall, like most girls that threw themselves at Oikawa’s feet daily since high school. 

Maybe that was it, then. Oikawa had spent much of his junior high and high school careers being worshipped and admired--one of the best of the best, beloved by the student body, top of the class… and yet, when he got to University, something had happened. The drastic shift in environment would be an adjustment for anyone, but Oikawa was struggling, and he was struggling harder than Iwaizumi could ever remember. He barely maintained his grades; he worked himself half to death at practice; but most damning, though, was his love life. Oikawa was no stranger to dating, but Iwaizumi had noticed a distinct lack of squeals following his best friend. As much as Iwaizumi adored the quiet, it was clear that whatever Oikawa had been expecting at University, it was not what he was getting. Perhaps he was frustrated, and maybe he was funneling that frustration into a fixation on his lab partner. If that was the case, Iwaizumi would have to put a stop to it _immediately_. Haruhi seemed like a nice girl, and didn’t deserve that. 

A traitorous voice at the back of his head told him that it wasn’t concern for Haruhi that made him want to end things, but he ignored it. 

Iwaizumi was so fixated on his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed Oikawa falling asleep on his text book until Haruhi was trying to shake him awake. 

“Oi,” Iwaizumi snapped, jabbing him in the side with a pen. Oikawa shot awake, but he still looked bleary-eyed. “When was the last time you slept?” 

“No worries, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa replied, flashing that ridiculously fake smile. “I’ll brew some more coffee. Anyone else want some?”

“Please answer the question, Oikawa,” Haruhi pressed, narrowing her silvery eyes. 

“I slept last night,” Oikawa replied, looking almost _offended_. Almost. 

“For how long?” Iwaizumi retorted. When Oikawa didn’t answer immediately, he crossed his arms with a triumphant smirk. “I thought so. Take a nap!” 

“But the project--” 

“It can wait,” Haruhi insisted. “I’ll wait here and finish my work; you sleep for a few hours, alright?” 

They managed to wrestle Oikawa into his bed, and he was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow. Iwaizumi knew he was a goner for a minimum couple hours once he started to cocoon himself in his comforter. He and Haruhi both tried to return to work, but it was obvious they’d lost their momentum, and they didn’t want to turn on music in case it woke Oikawa. At a loss, Haruhi set her pen down and stretched hugely. Iwaizumi watched, fascinated, as she placed her hand against the back of her chair and drew her legs to an almost perfect 180 degree angle. He felt his mouth go dry at the long line of her body, the impossible angles of her limbs, and the fluidity of her movement. The _implications_ of such...flexibility sent his mind to inappropriate places. 

“We should take a break anyway,” she suggested, settling her legs back onto the floor. “I don’t want to know what will happen if he wakes up and I’m not here, so maybe we should do something?” 

“We could watch a movie,” Iwaizumi said with a shrug, not meeting her eyes. Her oversized sweater had slipped from her shoulder, exposing an almost obscene amount of bare skin from the curve of her neck all the way to her shoulder. He tore his gaze away. “You can pick.”

“Don’t put this evil on me,” she joked, poking him in the side. “I have a few movies on my computer and earbuds. Shall we set up on your bed?” 

Iwaizumi pictured her sprawled against his pillows and his mind went to inappropriate places; her hair was already messy from the many times she’d run her hands through it in frustration, and her clothes had shifted in strange (if slightly alluring) ways. He wasn’t exactly a small guy, and the University they attended only provided a slightly cramped single bed. They would be pressed together, and his pillows would smell like her, and he could already feel his hands itching with the urge to run his fingers through her hair. This was a bad idea. Still, she must have taken his silence as assent, because she was already crawling across his haphazardly-made sheets in a way that made him think she had no clue how sexy she was. Still, he tried to convince himself that this was nothing. He was fine. It didn’t matter, because she was Oikawa’s lab partner and nothing more. Sure, Oikawa had expressed interest (multiple times) and that stung in more ways than one, but he wasn’t willing to examine those feelings just yet...or ever. 

She chose a kid’s movie from the early ‘90s about animals in some American wilderness. It was juvenile, and he didn’t really understand why she was laughing so hard, but there was a strange intimacy in sharing her headphones while he tried to figure out what was so appealing about this movie. He could barely focus on the plot anyway, because she was close enough that he could smell her skin. There was a familiar mixture of Salonpas and sweat; her soap was obviously a simple, clean scent, but her shampoo added a fruity note that combined into something distinctly _feminine_. He tried to chalk it up to the fact he’d been busy with school and practice, so he was getting a little hard up. 

He tried to ignore that mean little voice in his head that this was most definitely _not_ the case. He turned his attention back to the movie, wishing the cord between their ears was a little longer, or the mattress was a little wider. He tried to relax, and for the most part, letting the movie become background noise was sort of working. The dogs barking on the screen reminded him of his own dogs back home, and he missed them a little less. It was a familiar sound, and it did succeed in getting him to shut off his brain and loosen up for a bit. 

Then the end of the movie approached, and it started with the Golden Retriever (his family dog’s breed) falling down a muddy hole and ending with it limping over a hill to a totally cheesy musical swell. He should have _known_ that a cheesy movie about dogs was a bad idea, but he’d been naive. He hadn’t listened. And now he was sitting, frozen, as tears streamed freely down his face. His breath started hitching in his chest, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before the hiccups and snot started. 

“Oh my god, Iwaizumi-san, are you _crying?”_

He jumped--he’d nearly forgotten she was there--and tried scrubbing the traitorous tears off his face with his t-shirt. It didn’t work. “No!” Iwaizumi exclaimed around a breathless hiccup. “It’s this _dumb movie!_ With stupid Shadow and the _stupid hole_ \--” 

“Oh my god,” Haruhi giggled. Her hand was on his back, and it felt so nice and comforting when he felt like his chest was going to cave in. He _always cried_ at dog movies, no matter how old he got and it was _so embarrassing!_ “Are you alright?” 

“ _No!_ ” Iwaizumi exclaimed, not caring one bit about his pride because _Shadow came home_ , damn it! 

“Come here,” she cooed softly, gently guiding him until his head rested on her leg. Her fingers were suddenly in his hair, combing through and gently scratching her nails along his scalp. It felt amazing. Tears still flowed freely, even though the movie had long ended, but he felt himself melting into her touch. He didn’t want to examine the feeling, frankly, because he was afraid. He was afraid of what this meant. He just wanted to focus on how good it felt to connect with another human, and how she wasn’t judging him or calling him a baby or making fun of him. “Want to watch another one? No sad dogs this time, I promise.”

He didn’t trust his voice, so he just nodded. Studying could wait… at least until Oikawa woke up on his own.

~~~

“I’m ready.”

Iwaizumi turned towards the deceptively soft voice, his breath hitching when he saw her underwear choice of the evening--he had to admit, he was a big fan of the skin-toned thigh highs she’d chosen, but the lurid black seam leading to the Cuban heel did more for him than he wanted to admit. She was completely bare otherwise, and he felt his mouth go dry. He almost forgot to finish tying his tie. 

“You seem a bit underdressed for the restaurant,” he teased, quirking his brow but avoiding her gaze. It would be too easy to slam her into the wall at this point. He chanced a peek between her legs and suddenly wished he hadn’t--he could _see_ how wet she was from where he stood. 

“You’re hilarious,” she quipped, and he could hear the rolling of her eyes in her voice. “You said you wanted me when my underwear for the night was on. This is what I’m wearing.”

He drew in a sharp breath, and in a quick motion, crossed the bathroom to press her against the wall. She let out a little whine, her thighs pressing together. He shoved his hands between her legs, sliding his fingers between her soaked folds with something akin to brute strength; the little cry she let out shot straight to his groin, and he was already starting to strain at his nice trousers. 

“Fuck, Princess, you’re soaked,” he growled, swirling his fingers just above where she needed them. He was rough and unforgiving, and yet she still bucked into his touch. “You were just going to go out like this, dripping like a tap?” 

“Y-yes,” she mewled, arching into his touch. 

He smirked against her skin, sucking a mark into the sensitive skin behind her ear; “Yes, _what?_ ”

“Yes, daddy.”

He hummed with delight, working his fingers over her swollen labia, gently brushing against her clit before teasing over her opening; “Good girl.” 

He drove his fingers into her, groaning at the feel of her tight walls clamping down on the intruders. She was hot and dripping inside, and he moaned into her neck. She was practically sobbing as her body bucked and writhed under his touch; “Please, daddy. Please, more. Please!” 

“Shit, you just sucked my fingers right up,” he snarled. “This pretty pussy of yours is so needy. Maybe daddy should fill it, leave you _bound_ and _stuffed full_ , ready for daddy’s cock when he gets back from dinner? How’s that sound?”

“Oh, god!” A new gush of wetness spilled into his palm, and he was glad he’d rolled up his sleeves for this little activity. She was panting now, barely able to form coherent sentences. “I don’t… I can’t…”

“Mmm, as much as I enjoy the prospect, I’d prefer to _see_ you fall apart, Princess,” he purred, pulling out of her harshly. “Go lean on the sink; you’re filthy. Daddy needs to clean you up.”

He watched her bend into a sinuous arch, spreading her legs until he could visibly see the stretch in her sensitive inner thighs. God, he wanted her, but he knew the build up would be _incredible_ with the little toys Oikawa had purchased for this night. He growled, dropping to his knees behind her, and took her hips in his hands. She practically sobbed when his tongue grazed her leg, lapping up her arousal, before he sank his face into her cunt. It was lewd and sloppy--she dripped over his face and sucked up his tongue, contracting over him like she was begging to be filled. She ground back on him, but he held her fast. 

“Please daddy,” she begged. “Please, I’m going to come, daddy!”

She cried out when he pulled back to bite down _hard_ on her asscheek; “You better not.” 

Her whimpers were enough to let him know she was reaching her limits. Her hips her stuttering erratically, and her thighs were visibly trembling. As beautiful as it was, he wanted that night to be _amazing_ , and if she was struggling this badly already, she wouldn’t make it. He stuck his fingers inside her once more, searching for _that spot_ , all the while teasing at her clit with the tip of his tongue. She didn’t need much--her walls were already fluttering around his fingers, and her pleas had spiraled into incoherent whines. 

“Why do you think you get to come?” Iwaizumi growled, unable to resist teasing her… just a little. 

“I...I don’t…I mean-- _ah!_ ” She cried out when he pressed hard against her g-spot; her eyes were dark--almost black--when she glanced coquettishly over her shoulder. “ _Please_ , daddy.” 

“Good girl,” he praised, curling his fingers deliberately. “You can come now.”

He felt her visibly relax, like she craved his permission. Her whole body seized and stiffened while she came with a wail, her cunt clamping down hard on his fingers. He groaned when he imagined that ring of muscle along his cock; he had to stop for a second. It was _too good_. 

“Ooh, getting started without me?” 

Iwaizumi peeked out of the corner of his eyes; Oikawa was standing in the doorway, half dressed and smirking. If Iwaizumi didn’t know him as well as he did, he might almost believe he was disinterested, but the sharp quality to his lust-blown eyes as he focused on Iwaizumi’s hand buried inside of Haruhi, her spend dripping down his hand and wrist, betrayed his interest. Iwaizumi knew it would be difficult for Oikawa to give up control for the night, but it had been his idea. 

“I was supposed to prep her separately from you,” Iwaizumi teased. “You get a little handsy during this part.” 

“I think Iwa-chan is the one that’s handsy,” Oikawa said with a jerk of his chin. 

“Yeah, but I’m actually helping the situation,” Iwaizumi countered, running the pads of his fingers over her g-spot for emphasis. She groaned deeply, eliciting a delicious shiver from Oikawa. 

“Can we _please_ get on with the night?” Haurhi begged, grinding her hips down on Iwaizumi’s still fingers.

He responded with a quick slap to her rear; “So impatient.” 

“But our sweet little Haru-chan has a point,” Oikawa said flippantly. “Our reservations are in about an hour.” 

Once Haruhi and Iwaizumi cleaned up the mess from their earlier escapades, they fetched the toys where they were drying on a dish towel. Iwaizumi carefully placed the little strap-on butterfly vibrator right against Haruhi’s clit, and the bright purple was almost cute. Once she was situated, he moved onto Oikawa, which required a bit more concentration, lubrication, and preparation. The discreet black plug slid into him easily, sitting snugly between his perfect, round cheeks. While Iwaizumi made sure it was secure, Haruhi dropped to her knees in front of Oikawa, sliding a silicone cockring into place. 

“Alright, you two,” Iwaizumi said, his voice low and dark. He reached between his legs, giving his cock a squeeze to release some of the pressure. He could easily get himself off and still be raring to go when they got home that night, but that wasn’t part of the plan. “Go get dressed; then we have to get out of here.” 

He licked his lips when he saw Oikawa thrusting at nothing and Haruhi shifting from foot to foot. They wobbled like newborn calves as they made their way back to their bedroom, and he didn’t know if it was them trying to get used to the toys, or if it was him...or both. He fished out his phone, powering up the app. He thumbed over the slider he’d lovingly labeled ‘Assykawa’ until the plug was up to full speed… he had to test to make sure they were working, after all. Oikawa’s sudden, sharp cry that echoed through the thin walls confirmed it. Iwaizumi grinned widely…

It was going to be a fun night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> APOLOGIES FOR HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN!!!!
> 
> If you are still reading this fic, you are amazing and thank you!!!  
> As always, thanks to Hanners and Elaine for headcanoning with me to the wee hours. You two are the greatest!


	9. Chapter 9

Oikawa was dying. This was it. His life was coming to an end; he was about to say goodbye to this cruel world. The darkness was closing in. 

Then, he shifted, and the vibrating plug pressed right up against his prostate, and everything was thrown back into stark color once more. Iwaizumi had been _merciless_ all through dinner, nudging the speed of the surprisingly powerful (if discreet) vibrator at the most inopportune times. Thankfully, Oikawa had a hell of a poker face. It didn’t mean that his whole body didn’t shiver and shudder with every shift of his hips. He’d nearly choked on his tiramisu, which would have been a crying shame. He felt like he could come--a few choice thrusts against his trousers, and he would soak the inside of his underwear. But every time his hips moved, the ring pulled tight, and he got a painful reminder that he was not _allowed_ to come. He was so hard, a dull ache had developed between his legs, and he didn’t know if he wanted to be buried balls deep in Haruhi or splitting himself open on Iwaizumi’s thick cock. 

Or both. He barely suppressed a whimper at the phantom sensation as he clenched hard on the plug. 

Sadly, Haruhi was not doing much better. Her face was screwed tight in obvious arousal, to the point Oikawa was surprised they hadn’t been called out. When she couldn’t suppress her moans, she buried her face in her hands. Even then, the tell-tale blush across the back of her neck was such an obvious tell. Her thighs jerked under the table, upsetting the water glasses. 

“Haruhi,” Iwaizumi warned in a low voice, flicking his thumb over his phone screen. “The nice man will be back with the check soon, and then we can go home. You know that you aren’t allowed to come.”

“Fuck, Hajime, it’s been over an hour,” she groaned quietly, eyeing his phone suspiciously. “I can’t hold it anymore. I’m sorry.” 

“Haruhi,” Iwaizumi repeated, and Oikawa’s spine contracted at the low warning. It was a deliciously familiar tone--one Oikawa hadn’t been able to resist in the years since Iwaizumi’s voice changed. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again, casually knocking her water glass into her lap with a groan. She was panting, her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth popped open in a suggestive little ‘o.’ Oikawa’s eyes widened, his current predicament forgotten as she put her head forward on the table.

_Did she just…_

Iwaizumi tsked playfully under his breath; “What did I _just_ say?”

“I’m sorry,” she begged softly. “I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Hajime, _please._ ” 

Oikawa shuddered again, watching a shiver work it’s way over Iwaizumi’s broad shoulders. His steely eyes darkened at her, but he maintained his distance; “And here, I was just thinking I could reward the two of you when we got home. Clearly, a change of plans needs to be made.” 

Oikawa drew in a ragged gasp, shifting his hips again; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Iwaizumi had planned… and yet, he was vibrating with anticipation. 

~~~

The cab ride was blissfully short, and Oikawa managed to get into the apartment under his own power, and even got into his bedroom. Once he was through the door, though, he was gone. His legs promptly gave out, and he rested on all fours, panting like a bitch in heat. He was lost between the twin sensations of the powerful plug and the too-tight ring around his cock. The water glass incident covered up her mess, but the potent smell of Haruhi’s arousal made his mouth water, and he wanted to press into that cunt and taste it for hours. He cursed his active imagination as he thrust against open air, begging for release that would never come, before movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. 

Haruhi was sprawled on the floor in an undignified heap, whimpering at the hypersensitive feeling between her legs. She was actively trying to close her legs, but Iwaizumi had his feet planted between her thighs, keeping her open. The movement that made Oikawa’s breath stop in his throat was Iwaizumi carefully--deliberately--rolling his sleeves to his elbows. His expression was almost detached, and he wasn’t looking at either of his partners. 

That excited Oikawa more than anything else. 

“Haruhi,” he said in a quiet voice that still begged to be obeyed, nudging her thighs. “All fours, on the bed. Oikawa, on your knees. I want you watching… and get rid of your clothes. Slowly. I like watching you undress.” 

Oikawa shivered at the command, ever fiber of his being begging to obey, but he raised his chin defiantly; “What- _ah_! What’s stopping me from taking this ring off and finishing while you play around?” 

Iwaizumi looked down at him evenly, and Oikawa felt a thrill run down his spine at the small rebellion. Iwaizumi’s hands clenched and unclenched a few times before he captured Oikawa’s jaw in a bruising grip. Oikawa jumped, his breath catching in his chest and blood rushed to his face; “Because you’re my toy. And I’m not ready to play with you yet.” 

A strong hand carded through his hair, and just like that, Oikawa felt himself slipping into a submissive state. All he wanted to do was please Iwa-chan. He craved the praise and permission and affection that came with his obedience. He nodded, and Iwaizumi yanked his hands away, sauntering over to the couch. His dark eyes watched Oikawa’s every move as he peeled his clothes off his sweat-slick skin, groaning when the material of his underwear scraped against the head of his cock. He couldn’t see it, with his head tossed back in painful ecstasy as it was, but he could feel Iwaizumi’s gaze burn into the space between his legs. 

Oikawa’s cock was an angry purple color, standing out straight from his body, and weeping precome. He yearned to touch, to feel the friction of his hand or Iwaizumi’s hand or Haruhi’s mouth, but he was told not to touch. Once he kicked his slacks away from him he dropped to his knees, leaning back until the muscles in his abdomen went completely taught. The shifting moved the plug again, and he whimpered when he clenched around it. It was only just vibrating--just enough to sensitize, but not nearly enough to stimulate. He was going crazy… he was going to go crazy before Iwaizumi even laid a finger on him. 

Then he took Haruhi over his knee. 

It happened so quickly; one second, she was on all fours before him, leaning into his touch. The next, her dress was fluttering to the floor and her hair was gathered in Iwaizumi’s fist, pulled into a beautiful arch across his lap. Oikawa moaned at the sight, with Iwaizumi’s rolled sleeves and Haruhi’s thigh-highs… they looked delicious. 

“Should… should I count?” Haruhi asked around a breathy swallow. 

Iwaizumi’s free hand came down in a vicious smack across her ass. Oikawa winced with sympathy when he saw her skin turn an immediate, angry red. Iwaizumi was _strong_ , and the way he leaned into that smack had to hurt. But after her sharp cry, she was moaning, writhing, and wriggling against Iwaizumi’s legs, desperate for friction. 

“No,” he answered shortly, punctuated with another slap across her other cheek. She whimpered, going limp in his arms. “You’ll just lose track. Do you know what you’re being punished for?”

“Y-yes,” she gasped, arching into his soothing touch. He deterred her squirming with another slap. 

“Say it,” he growled. 

“I… I came without permission.” 

“Wrong.” Iwaizumi’s hand came down again with an unforgiving crack across the plush of her ass, right where it met her thighs, and she whined a high-pitched, keening sound that shot straight to Oikawa’s cock. “You came when I specifically told you not to. For that, you’ll be punished. Clear?” 

“Yes,” she said, dropping her chest across his legs. 

“Good girl,” he purred. And then he set to work. 

Oikawa had been spanked erotically before. He and Haruhi had a paddle hidden in the little chest at the base of their bed, and she’d used it on him before. He’d thought it was brutal then; but watching slap after slap fall onto her round buttocks, watching the milky skin turn rosey under Iwaizumi’s callused palm, watching Iwaizumi’s muscles flex under his shirt… Oikawa didn’t know who he would rather be in that situation. Her strangled, gurgling cries were like catnip to him, and the thin sheen of sweat on Iwaizumi’s brow pulled something tight low in his gut. 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined, thrusting uselessly against the open air. “Iwa-chan, _please_.” 

Iwaizumi stopped his brutal treatment of Haruhi’s ass, switching to gentle caresses over the flaming skin that still left her whimpering. He turned those eyes--blown black with lust--over to Oikawa; “What is it?” 

His voice was so even, and yet something about it made Oikawa shake to his bones. He wanted to sink into that voice, let it wash over him; “She--ah!--she broke the rules! But she gets to feel good. It’s not fair, Iwa-chan.” 

Iwaizumi’s brow twitched almost dangerously before a grin crept across his face. He looked at Oikawa like… well, like a predator. It was a bestial smile, and it promised to devour. To claim. To control… and Oikawa needed it like he needed oxygen. He was just on the verge of begging--or even disobeying--to get _someone’s_ hands on him when Iwaizumi pulled Haruhi upright by a fistful of her hair. 

“Haruhi,” he growled, running a long finger along her jaw line. “Take care of him, won’t you?” 

He leaned forward, whispering something in her ear that changed the quality of her expression. Where before, her gaze had been soft and doe-eyed, now her eyes were sharp. And they were turned on him. She curled her fingers, indicating he should climb on the bed with them. Iwaizumi leaned back into the pillows, not participating as Haruhi maneuvered him across the mattress. The soft comforter was certainly easier on his knees than the carpet, but when she pulled the ring off, he didn’t care. He couldn’t even think. Normal blood flow resumed, and his cock twitched violently. A dangerous spark of arousal started at the base of his spine, working it’s way into his stomach as his eyes followed the long lines of Haruhi’s body. She knelt before him, steadying him with the barest of touches, and her breath ghosted hot over the blood-swollen head of his cock. 

“Oh, God,” he cried, trying to thrust up into the loose circle of her fingers, but she pulled back suddenly. He whined with protest as she moved towards his back, rubbing her hands along his shoulder blades. When she pressed him forward, he froze. They’d talked about this before, but he’d never… once she popped the plug free, he whined in anticipation--long and loud. “Oh my _fucking_ God!” 

He felt like he was gaping open, and yet he didn’t care. Her thumbs carefully pried his cheeks apart, and Oikawa wanted to look back at her. He wanted to see what the holdup was as he shivered with anticipation, but Iwaizumi held his gaze. His hands had disappeared into his slacks, moving rhythmically beneath the fabric, and Oikawa found he couldn’t look away. 

Suddenly, and without warning, Haruhi licked a long, broad stripe over his entrance. Oikawa was left breathless at the unfamiliar sensation, and he barely had enough time to get his bearings before she licked again. Her tongue teased in ticklish patterns along his rim, pushing in and pulling out, switching between concentrated pleasure and broad teasing. Her hands moved to his hips, pulling him back on her tongue, pulling her deeper. Oikawa wailed into the sheets, gripping the comforter in an attempt to ground himself. There was too _much_. Too much sensation, and yet not enough. His dick was rock hard, aching and weeping onto the bed. His blood sang in his veins as her ministrations sent scorching hot sensations through his limbs. He was screaming into the mattress, caught between wanting more and wanting it all to stop. 

“Don’t muffle that pretty voice,” Iwaizumi commanded, sinking his hand into Oikawa’s hair and pulling sharply. The sudden sensation and weight around his throat made Oikawa freeze. A collar--leather and thick, perfect for pulling. He whimpered when Iwaizumi pulled it tight, fastening it into place. He gave it an experimental tug, careful not to disturb Haruhi, who was quickly driving him over the edge. Oikawa groaned when his Adam’s apple bobbed almost painfully under the constriction. He raised his eyes when Iwaizumi hooked a finger under his chin; he’d lowered the waistband of his boxers, and his beautiful cock was standing straight and hard from his body. Iwaizumi gave the collar an expectant tug, and Oikawa knew what to do. 

Oikawa kept forgetting how long and thick Iwaizumi was. His lips strained around the girth, saliva trickling out the edges of his mouth, and his tongue worked frantically at the thick vein on the underside. He only got about halfway down before it hit the back of his throat; he whined and gagged when he felt the tight ring of muscle protest. Tears leaked out of his tightly closed eyes as he hovered just on the edge of discomfort, taking as much of Iwaizumi’s cock as he could. Iwaizumi was guiding him with a firm hand in the collar, groaning when Oikawa moaned or swallowed around him. God, it felt so good. Haruhi was moaning against his ass, still enthusiastically eating him out, while Iwaizumi panted heavily above him. 

He was wanted--viscerally and desperately. He could feel it in the way they held him, used him, and gave him pleasure. Haruhi’s hands were tracing tickling patterns over his hips, and Iwaizumi’s eyes were soft and trance-like in his pleasure. He loved this… he never wanted it to stop. He never wanted it to end. Tears that had nothing to do with choking on Iwaizumi’s dick leaked out of the corner of his eyes, and his cock bobbed with neglect. He was losing his mind; he was falling into this pleasure, this feeling, and he needed touch. He needed it like he needed oxygen. He gently stroked his erection, wailing around Iwaizumi’s cock at the delicious friction. 

“Stop,” Iwaizumi commanded harshly, pushing as deep as he could without completely cutting off Oikawa’s air. Oikawa yanked his hand away like he’d been burned, crying in frustration. Iwaizumi and Haruhi stopped completely, drawing a long whine from Oikawa’s throat. 

“Please,” Oikawa begged, shaking and shivering. He leaned into Iwaizumi’s touch, still holding onto the collar. His throat rasped and ached from it’s earlier abuse. “Please, Iwa-chan. Please…”

“Please, what?” Iwaizumi’s harsh demand was softened by the loving carress through Oikawa’s hair, and Haruhi’s hands returning to his hips grounded him. 

“Please let me come, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whimpered, shaking under their combined touch. 

Iwaizumi drew Oikawa upright, cradling his jaw in hands that were just the right side of too rough, and kissed him hard and deep. His tongue was overwhelming and demanding, just like he was, and it made Oikawa weak. He went limp, leaning back into Haruhi, turning his face towards her. 

“Kiss me, Haru-chan,” he pleaded, nuzzling into her neck like a love-starved at. “Please, Haru-chan.”

“God, Tooru, you’re so hot like this,” she moaned, running her fingers along his arms. He shivered violently, leaning heavily into her touch. Her soft lips pressed just under his ear, gently worrying the skin with her teeth. His breathing picked up again; his cock jumped for lack of attention. He wanted her… he wanted Iwaizumi. He _needed_ them… he was losing his mind. He whimpered again, tilting his face towards hers for affection. 

“You’re both amazing,” Iwaizumi growled, stroking both of their heads like they were beloved pets. Oikawa didn’t care. He was ready to agree to _anything_ \--being humiliated, choking on his cock again, taking his whole fist up his ass--so long as he got to come. Iwaizumi’s voice and Haruhi’s embrace was all that was keeping him afloat. “Go sit against the pillows, Oikawa. I want to try something. Don’t touch yourself.” 

Oikawa did as he was told while Iwaizumi fished through the toy chest; Haruhi knelt at the end of the bed, giving him a reassuring, soft, loving smile. 

“I love you,” she whispered, and in the silence of the room, it hit him with the force of a scream. 

“I love you, too,” Oikawa replied, forcing a smile, though it was difficult. His whole body ached with the need for release, and the way Iwaizumi started manhandling her made his mouth go dry. The tell-tale click of the lube bottle made him freeze. 

Haruhi relaxed into the bed, her eyes fluttering closed as Iwaizumi spread her cheeks. Oikawa’s face felt numb, and Haruhi’s moans as Iwaizumi carefully fingered her open were doing nothing to help his current predicament. His cock begged for friction, twitching and jumping to dot white against his stomach. He’d been aching all night. He wanted it so badly… he needed it. He was ready to start begging once Haruhi started wailing into the comforter. 

“Ok, you’re ready,” Iwaizumi growled, pulling his fingers out of her gently. “Now go sit on his cock, Haruhi. I want you filled to the brim, princess.” 

The fond nickname penetrated the thick fog of arousal around Oikawa’s brain for a moment, but he was lost again when Haruhi tugged on his collar again, drawing him into a rough kiss. It was sloppy and clumsy, but when she sucked provocatively on his tongue, he didn’t even care anymore. When she drizzled lube onto him, carefully working it over his length, it took every ounce of concentration and willpower not to come in her hands right there. She knew exactly where he liked to be touched. She knew what felt good, and she had to know he was ready to climb out of his own skin. She carefully turned in his lap, spreading herself open as she gently lowered herself onto Oikawa’s cock. The first touch against the slicked, rosy pucker of her ass made them both keen with want. Agonizingly slowly, she pressed him into her ass. 

Oikawa was by no means as thick as Iwaizumi, but he was no slouch in the size department, and Haruhi was _tight_. God, it was so warm and tight and _wonderful_ , and combined with her high, breathy moans, he felt totally overwhelmed and out of control. He didn’t care; he focused on not thrusting up past that first ring of resistance, waiting for her muscles to suck him in. He tried to watch himself disappear in her, but it was hard. She was so beautiful, and she felt _so good_ , it was hard to not just let his eyes roll into the back of his head. By the time she was seated fully against him, he knew for sure he was dying. This was too good to be true; it felt amazing, and her sitting heavy and flush against him felt incredible. He wrapped his arms around her middle, muffling his moans into her hair. 

He rolled his hips against her, practically crying at the delicious friction of the tight ring of muscle clenched at the base of his cock, like her body was desperate to keep him inside. God, it felt so good. Just when Oikawa was thinking it couldn’t get any better, Iwaizumi hovered over them, his clothes shed and his magnificent dick standing hard and proud against his stomach. He pressed her back against Oikawa, spreading her thighs wide and changing the angle and pressure of her ass on Oikawa’s cock. He whined and keened and begged, but with the new angle, he didn’t have any leverage. His breath caught in his throat when he felt-- _felt!--_ Iwaizumi enter Haruhi. Her head fell back on his shoulder, exposing the long line of her throat to him. When Iwaizumi was fully hilted inside of her, Oikawa knew that this was it--it wasn’t getting any better. The epitome of pleasure was reached. 

But then, Iwaizumi started to move. 

_God help me, I can feel it! I can feel him thrusting… oh God, I can’t._

Iwaizumi’s thrusts were brutal, and clearly angling right into Haruhi’s g-spot. Oikawa had no choice but to simply lay back into the pillows and take it. He was practically sobbing; it was too intense. Haruhi tightened and clenched on him, while Iwaizumi’s movements brushed maddeningly against him through her walls, and Oikawa wailed long and loud against her shoulder. 

“Oh, God, Hajime,” Haruhi whimpered, meeting his thrusts and adding to Oikawa’s friction. 

“Does it feel good, Princess?” Iwaizumi purred, bracing himself against the headboard, effectively caging Haruhi and Oikawa in his perfect arms. “Tell me.”

“I feel so full,” she groaned, clearly caught between the twin sensations of Iwaizumi’s savage treatment of her cunt and Oikawa sitting tight and hot in her ass. Her hips lost their rhythm, and she started clenching in that way that heralded her orgasm. “Oh, God, I can’t hold it anymore.” 

Oikawa was losing his mind. He was going to come. Nothing was going to stop it, and Iwaizumi was too busy staring intently into Haruhi’s eyes to notice him. It was such a shockingly intimate gesture, despite their compromising position. Oikawa felt a twist of anxiety in his gut, but when he felt his balls tighten and rise, he knew he was past the point of no return. He bit _hard_ into Haruhi’s shoulder to muffle his cries. 

“I’m going to come,” Haruhi practically screamed. “I’m going-- _ah!_ \--Right there! Oh, God--” 

“Say it, Princess,” Iwaizumi snarled, thrusting so hard his balls slapped wetly against her skin. “I want to hear you say it when you come. Please. Come with me. Both of you.” 

It was like Oikawa’s body craved the permission, because with a breathy sob, he came explosively in Haruhi’s ass. It must have triggered her orgasm too, because she came immediately after. Blood rushed in Oikawa’s ears as he was wrung dry and driven well past the point of overstiumlation. He was a ball of nerve endings and sensations and pleasure so intense that it bordered on pain; Iwaizumi’s orgasmic moans were enough to send sparks shooting through his veins, and Haruhi’s incoherent cries fanned the sparks into flames. 

Then Haruhi’s voice cut through the haze of pleasure, louder and clearer than a bell; “Oh, god, _Daddy!_ ” 

And Oikawa’s blood ran cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, many thanks to Hanners, Ellie and Broody for all their help!!!


	10. Chapter 10

Oikawa was going to confess to Haruhi if it was the last thing he did; he had the perfect plan, the perfect timing, the perfect gift… now, all he had to find was his nerve. He nearly kicked himself… why was it so hard? He turned the velvet bag over and over again in his hands, staring at the space center logo as its color shifted under the house lights. He was better than this--this wasn’t his first rodeo. What was the worst that could happen? 

Well, she could reject him. And for only the first...no, second time, he faced that very real possibility. He rarely confessed--he got confessed _to_ , not the other way around. When he did, it was usually with something conventional, like a date, or a flower. He never let his space nerd side show to potential partners--he’d only really started to show himself to others once or twice, and once people got a look at the real Oikawa Tooru, they left. There were a couple of exceptions--Iwa-chan was one of them. Haruhi was the other. But she’d never seen him vulnerable like this before, and if he was being honest, he didn’t like it. 

It was easy enough to lay the charm on thick to get backstage. The show wouldn’t start for a while now, and Iwa-chan was saving their seats. Oikawa just knew that if he didn’t do it in that moment--if he waited--he would regret it. Haruhi’s dancing had a way of hypnotizing him and peeling back the carefully constructed layers around his core. It made him feel raw. Exposed. _Vulnerable._ He didn’t like it. So his brilliant idea had really revolved around catching her before her show. Looking back, and considering the number of make-up artists, dancers, stage hands, and costumers running around, it wasn’t one of his better plans. 

A child dressed as a toy soldier came barrelling from around the corner, squealing as he was chased by a little girl in a sparkling tutu. He crashed headlong into Oikawa’s legs, nearly sending all three of them to the stage floor. The soldier bowed politely, his calf eyes wide with fear. 

“I’m so sorry, sir!” 

Oikawa rolled his eyes, patting the boy’s hair; “Quite alright, no harm done. Actually, I was wondering if you could help me.”

“Um… yes!” The boy straightened suddenly, looking around surreptitiously for his friends, but they’d fled. 

“No need to be shy,” Oikawa assured with his genial smile. He was usually good with kids. He lowered himself to the boy’s level; maybe the fact that he was so tall was intimidating. “I’m just looking for someone. Do you know Sato Haruhi, by any chance?” 

“Haruhi nee-san?” The boy perked up, his eyes going wide and bright. “She’s in the cow’s room*!”

Oikawa blinked owlishly; “Beg pardon?” 

“He means the principals’* dressing room,” a middle-aged woman interjected. “Seiji-kun, your mother is looking for you. It’s time for makeup.” 

“Yes, sensei.” The boy scurried off to disappear among the crowd while the woman turned a scrutinizing eye on Oikawa. He suddenly felt… very exposed. 

“You were looking for Sato-san?” 

Oikawa felt the need to straighten his back; for some reason, this woman made him feel like a five-year-old boy, staring down his first coach; “Yes, ma’am.” 

“She is preparing for the performance,” the woman responded, her voice flat. She didn’t offer any further elaboration, but then she didn’t exactly say no. 

Oikawa suddenly felt desperate; “Please, it will only take me a moment. I just… really need to speak with her. In private.” 

The woman was unmoved, her eyes rolling in exasperation; “Does she know you? Because if you’re another so-called ‘admirer’ I will call security.”

Oikawa quirked his eyebrow, making a mental note to ask Haruhi about that later; “We...we go to school together, ma’am.” 

There was so much _more_ to it than that, though, and it stung to say it. He couldn’t exactly tell her that he was about to make an utter fool out of himself, declaring his undying love for a girl he’d only known a scant few months… truth was, if anyone asked anything more than the most basic information about Haruhi, he wouldn’t be able to answer. He hadn’t put much effort into getting to know her, and he felt… shallow. Sure, she was beautiful, but to him, she was more than that. She’d… she’d listened. She stayed. He wanted to know more… he wanted to know everything about her. 

She saw him--honestly and truly saw him. Only a handful of people in his life had ever done that, and he’d loved even fewer. One of them… Iwaizumi and him weren’t meant to be. It could never work. But Haruhi… she was _there_. And he did love her--not in the same way he loved Iwa-chan, but she’d carved out a unique place in his heart. So now all he needed was for this woman to tell him where she was, and judging by her suddenly-wide, borderline-terrified eyes, he probably wasn’t going to get it. 

“You’re Oikawa-san?” 

_She’s been talking about me…_

He wasn’t sure why that made his breath sieze in his chest, but it was a good feeling. He couldn’t help the wide grin as he nodded a bit too enthusiastically. 

_Play it cool, Tooru._

“Follow the yellow tape on the floor; it leads right to the principals’ dressing room,” the woman said firmly. “Curtain is in 25 minutes, so I want you out in 15. Clear?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Oikawa said enthusiastically, snapping in a mock salute.

“And Oikawa-san,” she interrupted, giving what might have passed for a smile. “Good luck.” 

He nodded, clutching the little bag tighter. He was absolutely not shaking… at least, that’s what he told himself. He wasn’t shaking. He wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t dying inside, hoping to whatever God that would listen that he wouldn’t totally embarrass himself. He followed the line of yellow tape to an indistinct door with Haruhi’s name taped under a yellow star. He took a deep, shuddering breath and knocked. When he heard her call, his hand froze on the knob for a second before he was able to summon what remained of his courage. 

His breath caught in his throat when he saw her, cinched tightly into a pale pink costume, bedazzled with dozens of golden beads. A delicate diadem on her dark hair completed the look, and her toe shoes looked brand new. Still, she looked stunning, and her look of shocked happiness sent a fresh rush of adrenaline through his system. 

“Oikawa,” she said, replacing the cap on her lipstick tube. “Are you here to see the show?” 

“I am,” Oikawa answered. He twisted the bag over and over in his hands, hoping the gift inside didn’t get hopelessly tangled in his fingers. “I um… I wanted to talk to you before you went on.” 

“Is something the matter?” 

Oikawa must have looked terrified. He _felt_ terrified. He swallowed hard, pulling the velvet bag out of his pocket and focusing hard on her nervously-tapping fingers. Whether or not he was making her nervous, or if she was just nervous about the show, wasn’t totally clear, but he figured there was nothing to do but soldier on. 

“No, nothing’s wrong, Haru-chan,” he murmured, rubbing at the back of his head. He took a steadying breath, puffing out his cheeks as he let it out slowly. It was now or never… “I just… I brought you this.” 

He handed her the velvet bag, watching as she tipped it into her palm. Her inquisitive expression instantly softened when she saw the pendant he’d brought her. It was a sparkling silver, about the size of a 500 yen coin, and shaped like a 5 pointed star. When her smile turned bright and breathless, he felt a strange surge of satisfaction. He always knew how to please a woman… and yet there was something beautiful about the elated light in her eyes. 

“Oikawa, this is beautiful.” 

“It’s a star,” he supplied helpfully. 

She snorted inelegantly; “I can see that! Jeez!” 

“No, I mean turn it over,” he said, flipping the pendant and pointing out the small carving and the serial number. “See, that’s the serial number. This pendant actually represents a real star in the sky. I um… I bought you a star.” 

Her breath stopped, her eyes going wide; “Oikawa…” 

“I thought,” he began haltingly, picking at a spot on his hand. “I really like you, Haruhi. This is a bit over the top, but this is me. And I’m offering it to you… if you’ll have it. Please, do me the honor of dating me?” 

~~~

Oikawa woke in the morning feeling more sore and tired than he could ever remember. He winced with even the slightest movements, his legs felt like overcooked noodles, and his throat had a satisfying tickle from the previous night’s abuse. He felt wrung out and well fucked and languid in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling. He was surrounded by Haruhi and Iwaizumi’s scents, his face pressed into their pillows and feeling their lingering warmth on the bed. 

And then he heard Haruhi giggle… all at once, it came rushing back, and he felt sick again. 

_Oh god, Daddy!_

Oikawa’s eyes popped open, trying to dispel the image of Iwa-chan-- _his Iwa-chan_ \--being so intimate with Haruhi-- _his Haruhi_. How long had that ‘Daddy’ thing been going on? How long had Iwaizumi had a Daddy kink? Did he even have a Daddy kink? Well, obviously one of them did, because not five seconds after she’d said it, Iwaizumi had growled so low in his throat it sounded like a rumble. A few seconds after that, Oikawa felt Iwaziumi’s come drip from Haruhi’s soaked cunt and pool around his balls… so clearly it had done something for him. 

Oikawa snapped upright, raking his hands through his tangled hair. He heard it again--Haruhi’s soft little giggle. It came from the kitchen, and it was followed by Iwaizumi’s rough morning rasp. They were making breakfast? They were talking quietly enough that it seemed they weren’t trying to wake him, which was good? Yes, it was good. They were being considerate… and he would have breakfast and coffee right when he woke up! He wouldn’t have to lift a finger… his favorite way of spending a morning. Except…

Except cooking breakfast together? Listening to his stupid music and talking with Haruhi about their plans for the day? Her making fun of how he took his coffee while they did the morning dishes before getting ready together? That was _their_ thing. He wasn’t a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, but he’d come to treasure his morning routine with her. Since Iwaizumi had moved in, the three of them had added a run to their schedule, and it had been nice. Almost domestic. It was something he got to count on, something he could believe would always be there… 

And he had to watch it slip through his fingers. He watched it slip as he tiptoed out into the kitchen; he saw Haruhi and Iwaizumi gently bumping hips in time to the quiet music. Iwaizumi was flipping hotcakes--something Iwaizumi so rarely made, but they always tasted like pure, cakey sin--while Haruhi was slicing fruit on the chopping board. They were talking in low tones, their heads bent together… it was a moment just for them, with no room for Oikawa. The peace of their morning would be shattered if he butted his way in… 

Haruhi set the knife down to move the blackberries into a mixing bowl, and Iwaizumi took the opportunity to run his fingers up her side in a ticklish motion. Haruhi squealed loudly, dancing away from him. He laughed that gorgeous laugh of his, while she turned back to him with mischief in her eyes. Oikawa knew that look, and he knew Iwaizumi’s retribution would be swift and merciless. 

Having grown up with him, Oikawa knew of Iwaizumi’s one ticklish spot on his whole body. It had taken him the better part of eight years to find it, but he knew that all he had to do was poke it, and Iwaizumi was a giggling, squirming mess on the floor. He’d told Haruhi all about it, so he had to watch as something that used to be only for him was shared. Haruhi easily ran her fingers along the spot by his Adonis belt, and down he went in a peal of boyish giggles. He was helpless like this, and Haruhi took advantage, wriggling her fingers over the spot. Iwaizumi kicked like a toddler, trying to dislodge her, and his face screwed up with the effort of not guffawing his great sobs of laughter. 

She took mercy on Iwaizumi and was rewarded when he stared up at her with the softest expression Oikawa had ever seen. His eyes crinkled in the corners, and his smile was wide, bright, and toothy. Oikawa so rarely saw that expression, and it was supposed to be for _him_ , God damn it! It was supposed to be him reducing Iwaizumi to a puddle of affectionate goo on the kitchen floor. It was supposed to be him running his hands over Haruhi’s soft thighs… damn it, Haruhi was supposed to be wearing on of his t-shirts, not Iwaizumi’s… He felt sick with envy as he watched her duck her head to kiss him. It wasn’t a heated kiss, or anything overtly passionate. Frankly, he’d seen his parents share similar embraces. But it ached to see. They didn’t acknowledge him. They didn’t even know he was _there_. They didn’t care… 

He was jealous. He was jealous of a relationship he helped create… because he’d had both of them first! But the problem was, he had no idea who he was jealous of. 

~~~

Something was wrong. Iwaizumi could see it the moment Oikawa came into the kitchen, his smile as fake and plastic as it had ever been. Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes as he watched Oikawa pluck his coffee cup from Haruhi’s fingers with barely a second glance. He hardly looked at Iwaizumi--just took his hideously-sweet coffee into the other room and plopped onto the sofa with his laptop. 

Iwaizumi quirked his brow, sharing a concerned glance with Haruhi; “I made breakfast.”

“Thanks, Iwa-chan, but I’m not very hungry today,” Oikawa said evenly. 

“Tooru, you should eat something,” Haruhi pressed. This wasn’t right--Oikawa’s appetite was killer in the mornings, and he would turn into a monster before 10 a.m. if they didn’t feed him something… he usually knew that. He usually didn’t have the energy before coffee to be so fake… or mean. 

“What are you, my mom?” Oikawa snapped at Haruhi, his scowl taking any of the usual teasing mirth out of his usual banter. “I already have two parents, Haru-chan. I’m not the one desperately seeking a replacement.” 

“Oi!” Iwaizumi growled. “What the fuck?” 

Haruhi looked stung, but she buried it quickly. She gave Iwaizumi a thin, tight smile, almost as fake and plastic as Oikawa’s. He had taught her well; “It’s fine, Hajime. He’s just… snappish in the mornings.”

Iwaizumi’s brows furrowed; “Are you sure?” 

“She said it was fine, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said flippantly, not looking up from his screen. “Although I do apologize, Haru-chan. That was rude of me.” 

“I’ll say!” Iwaizumi growled. 

“Let it go, Hajime,” Haruhi warned. 

He listened, but he didn’t want to. The more time he spent with them--the two of them--the more he realized they were both precious to him. He wanted to take care of them; he wanted to see them happy. The night before… it was by far the most incredible sex of his life. He’d fallen asleep wrapped around the two most important people he’d ever had--a man he’d been in love with for the majority of his formative years and a girl he’d fallen for like a ton of bricks. He loved them both fiercely; the level of intimacy he achieved with them was nothing short of amazing. The night before… when he’d had them both at his mercy, when he was slowly putting them back together after tearing them apart, it was the first time he’d considered that maybe, just maybe, their relationship could work. It could last. He wouldn’t be left behind, and he wouldn’t tear apart a loving and doting couple. He could be a part of it. 

So it hurt to see them at odds. He knew Haruhi and Oikawa fought, sometimes viciously. They were both strong, independent people with their own dreams and ideas and ambitions. They were passionate and outspoken and intelligent, and sometimes that led to the most childish, knock-down screaming matches he’d ever seen. They sometimes left Oikawa seething and quietly obsessing behind a locked door and Haruhi sobbing silently into one of the couch pillows. Usually, they ended up working it out, but something was different. 

Something was wrong. 

Iwaizumi mulled over what could be bothering him; for a heartstopping second, he was afraid Oikawa was upset about the sex, but that didn’t seem to be the case either. He was infuriatingly neutral most of the day. He didn’t have any further outbursts. Iwaizumi almost thought Oikawa might have been over it. 

But then Haruhi left for a brief meeting with her director, and Oikawa didn’t kiss her goodbye. Iwaizumi was sending her off, and he’d never seen her look more upset. She buried her face into Iwaizumi’s neck, and he could hear the soft sniffles that accompanied her tears. 

“Hey,” he said softly. He ran his hand over her head, smoothing her hair away from her face. “I’ll figure it out, alright? I’ll talk to him.” 

Haruhi nodded wordlessly, pulling her bottom lip through her teeth; “Thanks, Hajime.” 

After shooting a quick scowl over his shoulder at the closed bedroom door, Iwaizumi bent for a kiss, gently sucking her lower lip between his teeth. He idly wondered what would have happened if he’d met Haruhi first, if he’d accepted his feelings first, or if he hadn’t been so willing to pretend he didn’t care once Oikawa had started to show interest.

Before he could really linger on those thoughts, she breezed out the door. She’d be back in an hour or so--perfect amount of time to smack some sense into Oikawa. Iwaizumi slammed into the bedroom door, scowling at his best friend. 

“What the fuck, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi snarled. “You’re being an extra big shit today; what’s your malfunction?” 

“It’s rude to barge into someone else’s bedroom without knocking first,” Oikawa said evenly. He was curled in on himself, clutching a soft Stitch plush doll. Haruhi had gotten it for him on her trip to Tokyo Disney, and Oikawa loved the hell out of that stupid plush. 

He usually only held it like that--clutched to his middle with his arms wrapped around it--when he was upset, or had something on his mind. As much as Oikawa liked to believe the facade was impenetrable, Iwaizumi saw right through him. He’d always been able to see right through him. So the fact that whatever was bothering Oikawa wasn’t registering to Iwaizumi unsettled him in a way he wasn’t used to. He softened--the redness around Oikawa’s nails showed he’d been biting his fingers, and he only did that when he was really upset about something.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi said, sliding to sit next to him on the bed. He sank into the deliciously soft mattress, and their combined scents were comforting. Normally, Oikawa changed the sheets after sex… but this time he didn’t. Iwaizumi was confused. “You want to talk about it?” 

“Nothing to talk about,” Oikawa muttered. 

“There isn’t anything to talk about,” Iwaizumi pressed. “Or you don’t want to talk about it?” 

Oikawa stiffened, averting his eyes--oh yeah, there was something on his mind. But for some reason, he was keeping it from Iwaizumi. That alone was enough to make Iwaizumi tense, but he also knew Oikawa well. If he really truly didn’t want to talk about it, then he wouldn’t. Iwaizumi sighed, running his hands through the impossibly soft hair at the base of Oikawa’s skull. Oikawa leaned into the touch, closing his eyes with an almost pained expression. Something pulled tight in Iwaizumi’s chest as he tilted Oikawa’s face towards him. He pressed a soft kiss to Oikawa’s lips, which were chapped and bitten raw. Iwaizumi hated it when he was this anxious… he hated it when there was nothing he could do. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to make it better. But, for once, he didn’t know how. 

“Just so you know, anything you need? I’m here,” Iwaizumi murmured, punctuating his words with soft kisses. “Alright?” 

Oikawa’s gaze went from soft and unfocused to sharp in the blink of an eye. There was a heat in his eyes that dropped Iwaizumi’s heart into his stomach; “Anything I need?” 

“Of-of course,” Iwaizumi replied, feeling the dangerous red stain of a blush creep over his cheeks. “I’m here for you.” 

“Good,” Oikawa growled. _Growled._ Iwaizumi had never heard that sound come out of him, and suddenly the atmosphere shifted. 

In a flash of movement that was too quick to follow, Oikawa had Iwaizumi on his back, his slim hips slotted between Iwaizumi’s legs. The obvious line of his arousal ground against Iwaizumi’s perineum, drawing out an embarrassingly high-pitched whine. This was a bad idea… this was bad. This was really bad. There was too much left unsaid… too much tension… 

But Oikawa was so strong--deceptively so, given how slim he was--and as loath as Iwaizumi was to admit it, so fucking sexy. His milk-chocolate eyes were darkened with desire, and the smirk he wore hit an intoxicating balance between soft and sexy. 

“If you’ll give me anything I need,” Oikawa murmured, leaning forward to curl his tongue around the shell of Iwaizumi’s ear. He shuddered, moaning against Oikawa’s shoulder. This was bad… but Oikawa’s scent was overwhelming him. He needed him… he wanted him so badly. He shouldn’t want him so badly, given what happened the night before… but something primal in him was screaming at him. “Then I need you to make love to me, Iwa-chan.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!!!  
> As always, thanks to Broody, Ellie and Hanners for all your help! This chapter would have been shorter (and worse) if not for your interference!!!

**Author's Note:**

> This never would have gotten made without TheGangHitsTheSlopes, who headcanoned with me for four solid hours, so this is dedicated to them. They have a fantastic IwaOi fic called Unmarked that I can't recommend enough, so check it out. 
> 
> I have been in Haikyuu! Hell and this is the only way out (just kidding, I'm never coming out).


End file.
